Room 211
by LonelyGirlWritings
Summary: Advanced English Literature Professor Erik Lantier stumbles upon a rather erotic and graphic essay, that details her sexual fantasies and deepest lewd desires, written by a certain freshman student named Christine Daaé. He confronts her and nothing is ever the same with this teacher and his young student. Modern day. M for Explicit content. READ MY BIO.
1. Chapter 1

**Room 211**

* * *

**The Essay**

The thirty four year old glanced down at the essay with unavailingly wide eyes, his mouth dry from the penned words streamed across the white lined paper. He had never received this kind of essay, in all his almost ten years of teaching. He didn't know what to do with himself, what to think. He grasped the red pen tightly in his hand, almost snapping it into two as he read on, his eyes painfully skimming the rest of the essay. His heart was racing, the hairs on his arms were sticking up, while his jaw clenched with an undeniable conflict. What if someone came in and saw him reading this essay? Would he lose his job? Of course not, he was tenured... But still, the thought loomed in his mind. God, this is not what he wanted. This is not what he signed up for when he wanted to be a teacher.

_'She was panting loudly into his ear as she met his hips with hers. He couldn't help, but let out a groan of pleasure. He was her little secret, she didn't mind. After class he would wait for her to arrive, they would drive to a secluded parking lot and go into the back of her Jeep. Sometimes, she'd even take him to her dorm. She was glad she convinced her step mother to let her live alone. As she bit down on his neck, sure to leave her mark, he rolled his hips deeper into her, causing her to cry out in complete euphoria. Her unyielding grip on his shoulders only provoked him to thrust harder, making her moan in pleasure as he hit her-' _

No, he could not go on reading, it was inappropriate! When he told his students that this weekend's homework prompt was up to the student, he didn't expect to get an essay explaining a graphic sex scene. He groaned to himself as he ran a feverish hand through his hair, flipping the essay over trying to ignore the ache he felt below his belt. How could a student write about this? Was it comfortable writing about such an erotic topic? Shaking his head, he shoved the essay into his briefcase and prepared to head home, hoping to get the imagery that the essay painted out of his head by the time he got back home to his fiancée.

"You look stressed out, babe." The dirty blonde echoed from behind the counter. "How was class?" Suddenly, _the _essay popped into his mind as he set his briefcase on the table.

"It was fine, just normal class. How was your day, Bailey?" She smiled widely while exiting the kitchen. "Did you enjoy work?" She mimicked his infamous shoulder shrug and placed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"It was good. Not much happens at a hair salon, my dear." With an understanding nod, the six foot three man took his jacket off, placing it on the back of the chair. "Why don't you go relax for awhile? Dinner won't be ready for another hour." Bailey smiled ushering her man towards his office with a kiss on his cheek for his stressed out self.

Sighing of relief, he organized his desk to his liking, placing his briefcase on the dark oak wood. Reaching into the case, he took out the stack of papers.

"God, why did I ever let my students pick their prompts?" He whispered, searching through the thick pile of papers. Taking off his tie, he took a sip of coffee and leaned forward with his elbows on his desk. Finally landing on _the _essay, he turned on the lamp and exhaled softly. "Alright missy, let's see what you have for me today."

_'He was gorgeous, but she knew that he would never have her in the ways that she wanted him. She wanted him relentlessly, against the wall, as he breathed her name in a dizzying climax. Yes, that is what she craved. That is what she thinks about endlessly as she sits in the back of the classroom, watching his every move. His skilled hands writing on the white board. Oh, how she dreamed of those hands working inside of her! She bet he could work magic with those fingers, stretching her and taking her places she had never been before. His unmatched eyes staring into her as he finally pressed into her, yes that is what she wanted, what she so desperately longed for; she wanted him. She desired her professor and she knew that he would never desire her, but it was always nice to dream. It was always nice to dream about the man in Room 211.' _

His mouth was yet again dry as he finished her opening statement. His way of writing was a bit unconventional. He required an opening statement that summarized the idea of the essay; it was usually longer than a thesis, but shorter than a full paragraph. As he eyed the words with confusion, lust, and more confusion, he swallowed hard and took a deep breath. He knew this was wrong, reading the essay, but something within him pulled himself to continue. He was her teacher after all... He was supposed to read her work and grade it accordingly, right?

"Oh my god." He exhaled realizing that this essay was about him. One of his students was fantasizing about him! He never thought he was attractive and certainly not a figure to be _dreamt _about in such a way. No, he got lucky with Bailey. She was beautiful, a goddess. He was certainly going to marry up when the time came. As he skimmed the essay more, it continually got more graphic, more sensual. The student desired him, all of him, and with that knowledge, he began to feel light headed.

"Erik?" Bailey's voice broke his train of thought as his furiously tried to hide the essay before she came into the office.

"Yes! Come in, honey!" He nervously shouted back to her. Soon, her blonde head poked through the door.

"You alright, babe? I've been calling out to you for awhile now." His head was spinning.

"Y-Yes! What do you need?" He was nervous, so nervous.

"I just wanted to know if you wanted chicken or pork for dinner..." She eyed her fiancé oddly, trying to figure out why he was sweating. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Pork! Great, thanks!" Slamming the door in her face with his foot, he turned back to the essay that had _inconveniently _turned him on, a lot. His slacks were much tighter than when he originally sat down to read.

_'She dreams of him taking her against the desk, bending her over until she feels the cool wood against her breasts. She longs to feel his fingers digging into her waist as he mercilessly pounds into her from behind, making sure she won't remember her own name and she only remembers his. She wants him to be rough, oh yes. She believes that his shy demeanor, his quiet teacher personality is just a façade. Within him is a beast, a beast that cannot be tamed. She only wishes that he would show her what lies within him, while he... Lies within her...' _

"Fuck." He hadn't noticed that he started reading the essay without realizing who actually wrote this essay. Turning the essay back to the front page, he glanced at the upper right hand corner. With a completely surprised face, he could practically see the guilty victim.

She was about five foot three, her hair curly as ever. She sat in the back row of the class, in the left hand corner next to a blonde haired girl and a red head. She was talkative, but a good student. She never failed a test or turned in homework late. She was only a freshman in college, but this was an advanced English class meant for mainly upperclassman. He remembered her, because she had bright green eyes and a giant smile; every time she entered class she would wave to him and be the first to hand in her homework. She was smart, always offering to help the jocks with their essays. He never knew that she was this lascivious, this sexy.

"Christine, Christine Daaé..." He muttered, reading the name off of the corner. Rubbing his eyes, he put the essay back into the briefcase. He just wanted to enjoy the rest of the night, hoping that he would get some answers out of the five foot three girl tomorrow. Honestly, he just wanted a reason to talk to her.

* * *

"Your homework tonight is to hand me _completed _outlines tomorrow, please!" The teacher shouted as he earned some groans from some students from the front rows. "That means you, de Chagny." The jock smiled slightly, trying to mask his discomfort. He never studied or did his homework. It would be a miracle if he came to class tomorrow with a pencil. "Christine? May I speak to you after class?" The tiny girl looked up with bright eyes, pressing her books to her chest. She wore glasses today.

"Just head to lunch without me, I'll meet up with you guys." She smiled sweetly, making her way up to the front of the class. "You wanted to talk to me?" Her voice was happy, her smile wide.

"Yes..." Erik began, gesturing for her to pull up a desk. "Please sit, Ms. Daaé." Erik smiled wearily, adjusting his blue silk tie, a gift from Bailey. She plopped down on the desk, placing her books on her lap. Her heather gray v-neck scooped low, showing off her decent cleavage. Erik groaned to himself.

"Am I in trouble?" She bit her lip in nervousness, tilting her head.

"No, no... I just wanted to talk to you about your essay. The one you did on the free prompt?" She began to blush, looking down at her worn out Converse. "It seems as though you have, uh, quite the imagination."

"I just thought I would try a different style of writing, you know?" Her voice was quiet. "I can rewrite it, if you want something else, Professor Lantier." Her finger circled the books beneath her mindlessly as she sighed to herself.

"What caused you to write it?" He asked as he mentally skimmed the essay.

"Honestly, I just never had written anything like it. I wanted to explore that side of writing. I thought it came out pretty good, Professor Lantier. Don't you?" She giggled to herself, biting her lip once again. "I'm sorry if you felt objectified."

"That-That essay was about me?" He tried to sound as stupid as he could, but it didn't work.

"My essays are always about you, Professor Lantier." He could feel the heat in his throat again. She hopped off her desk, placing her books to the side. Making sure no one was around, she leaned forward onto the desk. "You're all I think about." She purred into his ears, her fingers tugging at his tie.

"I'm f-flattered, but this is inappropriate! You're much, _much_ younger than I am! I'm engaged, for Christ's sake!" He ran a frantic hand through his hair as her unrelenting gaze peered at him. "Listen, I'll just give you a B on the essay and we'll pretend it never happened, okay? How's that, Miss Daaé?" She tilted her head, unsatisfied with the terms. "I can't do this with a student, it's w-wrong! You're what, 20? 19? God, no! Just take my offer and we'll be done with it, dear." He shakily spoke as she pondered on his offer.

"I'm 18, actually. I turn nineteen in December." She grinned widely, flipping her hair backwards. "You're not _that _much older than me."

"Christine, I'm sixteen years older than you! Jesus, that's a whole legal driver's age older than you!" Erik ran a distressed hand through his hair. God, he didn't know what to do. His heart was telling him, 'Don't you dare cheat on Bailey,' but everything else in his mind was telling him that a one time thing shouldn't feel this bad. "Just take the B and leave it at that."

"I have a better idea." She skipped over to behind the desk, eyeing the teacher up and down. He was built, but not the point where it became disgusting. Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his heated lips. He didn't pull back. "Don't tell me you didn't like my essay, because I know you did... Was it all you could think about last night while you fucked your fiancée?" He didn't answer. "Did my story make you horny? Did you wish it was me you were having sex with last night?"

He knew what he was getting himself into was wrong, but everything she was saying was true. He couldn't stop thinking about what she wrote, how she wrote it. It was so detailed that he could practically feel her on him, around him. After dinner, Bailey wanted to get frisky and of course he obliged, but Bailey wasn't on his mind... His student was. Oh god, he was certainly going to hell for this.

Christine nibbled on his earlobe, pulling his tie up and over his head. Her smooth lips traveling up and down his stubbled jaw. She seemed to pay no attention to his mask, which was nice. With one move, her shirt was up and over her head, her black lace bra exposed. He swallowed hard once more. Bailey never wore lingerie like that on a daily basis. With a lustful wink, Christine straddled the older man, grinding her sex into his. Erik moaned, moving her hair to her opposite side as he trailed a line of kisses down her collar bone. He suddenly paused, making her very aware that she was shirtless and on top of her professor.

"What's wrong?" She asked with concern.

"I have to-I have to go close the door, lock it." He breathed out, trailing his fingers down her impossibly sexy spine. "Stay, stay here." She gladly stood up, allowing him to lock the door and pull the blinds down in front of the window. He still couldn't believe he was doing this.

"What's your name? Your first name." She asked, pushing him back into his chair. "I just want to know what to call out louder, seeing that... I'll be forgetting my own name." Erik blinked furiously as all the blood rushed to his sex. Bailey _never _talked this dirty to him.

"E-Erik, it's Erik." She nodded approvingly, attacking his lips with hers in fervor that he couldn't catch up with, not that he was complaining. "Christine..." He exhaled, pulling away from their heated kisses.

"Yes?" His shirt was next to join the pile of clothes as her fingers worked on his belt. He caught his breath and finally gathered his thoughts.

"Why me?" With a wink, she slid to her knees and ushered for him to lift up his hips. Lifting them up, she pulled his pants and boxers down with it. Raising an eyebrow at his hardened sex, he blushed deeply. With a kiss to the tip, she leaned forward and exhaled a long breath, looking up at the man who stole her heart months ago. Truly, this was a dream come true.

"Stick around and maybe you'll find out why I chose you."

* * *

That night at dinner, Erik felt an undeniable wave of guilt wash over him as he sat across his beautifully stunning fiancée. She was chatting up a storm, talking about wedding plans. He mindlessly nodded, thinking about the horrible act he committed earlier that day. He had never thought about cheating before he read that essay. Maybe it was because it was so detailed, that it couldn't help itself but get engraved into his brain. As Bailey talked endlessly about the wedding, Erik sat there trying to decide if he should pretend like that afternoon never happened or talk to his student to make sure she knows that it will never happen again. With a great sigh, he stabbed the piece of chicken with his fork and tried to listen to his fiancée go on about flower arrangements. It's not his fault his mind wandered.

"What did you do in class today?" Erik accidentally dropped his fork onto the ground. Leaning down to grab it in a hasty manner, he hit his head on the table on the way back up to the surface. "Jesus, Er... Are you okay?"

"Fine, fine! Why wouldn't I be fine?" Erik rubbed his head slightly, trying to gain his bearings. With a smile, he stood quickly and rushed to the kitchen. "Goddamnit." He mumbled, looking for a new fork.

"They're in the draw beneath the microwave." Bailey and Erik had just moved into this house and it was still confusing to him. Sighing to himself, he noticed that one of the buttons on his shirt were missing. "Erik?"

"Damnit! I spilled some teriyaki sauce on my shirt, I'm going to go change!" With a wave of his hand, he was already upstairs. "Fuck..." He repeated as he tore off the dress shirt. Rapidly searching for a plain t-shirt, he finally stumbled on an old band shirt that Bailey got him for his birthday.

"Erik, is something wrong?" Bailey's small voice beckoned from the bedroom door as Erik slowly emerged from the closet. Smiling softly, he placed a soft kiss on her nose.

"Nothing my dear, nothing at all. Shall we return to dinner?" With that, the couple made their way down to dinner as if nothing had happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Between Us Two**

* * *

The next class came all too soon as Erik anxiously awaited the group of upperclassmen - and Christine. He had seen her work from her senior year and he was thoroughly impressed. He wondered why she picked his class to take, out of all the English classes offered at this university. She was a hard worker and her writing was phenomenal for a girl her age. She scored a 5 on her AP Literature exam (a rare occasion) and on the first exams Erik gave out, she only missed two questions. She stunned all of the upperclassmen. She even got some questionable stares. People doubted that she was actually eighteen, but she showed them her license and made sure they knew that she wasn't lying. She was intelligent and Erik needed to let her know that what they did was to never happen again. With a future as bright as hers, she didn't need to tangle herself in a mess like that.

"Good morning class, I hope you have that outline I mentioned yesterday." More groaning emitted as Erik cringed at their responses. Christine raised her paper, ushering the teacher over to her desk.

"Here you go, Professor Lantier." Her eyes were innocent, as if nothing had happened. Maybe that was a good thing. "I didn't know how detailed you wanted it, so I just went up to the fifth paragraph."

"That's fine, thank you for actually doing your homework." With a gentle smile, the professor made his way back up to the front of the class. "Anyone else do their homework?" A few other papers were raised in the air, but not enough to satisfy the teacher. "_Guys_, it's not a hard assignment. It's just a simple outline of the book. It's only September, why is everyone so lazy?"

"Why do you give so much homework?" The de Chagny boy groaned, throwing his head back in defeat. "It's like I'm back in high school!"

"Well, Mr. de Chagny, homework helps you learn and if you want to be a business major, you're going to have to learn how to type up a report; a detailed summary of your trades and investments. You don't want to sound like an educated fop, do you?" Christine giggled from the back of the classroom, catching the teacher's attention.

"What the hell are you laughing at, curly?" de Chagny spat back, rolling his eyes.

"I'm laughing at the fact that he called you a fop. Do you even know what that is?" Christine smiled widely at the professor, her eyes beaming with adoration. "In any case, Raoul, it was a joke and you should learn to take one. It'll help with the essay writing." Raoul de Chagny held up his middle finger towards the back of the classroom, earning another giggle.

"Hey! We'll have none of that. Please, sit up and learn some manners. We're not going to be flipping people off, _especially _a lady, Mr. de Chagny." The professor sighed. This was going to be a long class.

The alarm on his phone went off, signaling that the painful class was finally over and to his dismay, the curly haired girl had stayed back while the rest of the class left the room. She sat in the back of the classroom, waiting a moment while she cleaned off her desk, stuffing her books into the purple Jansport backpack. With a huff of aggravation, the sound of the zipper finally filled the almost empty room.

"Hi there, Professor Lantier." She chirped, making her way to the desk. The sway of her hips distracting him momentarily.

"Hello there, Miss Daaé. What can I help you with today?" His voice was calm as he tried his best not to let his nerves get to him.

"I wanted to thank you for what you did for me - with Raoul. He can be a bit of a douchebag." She smiled warmly, tightening the straps on her backpack. "We've been family friends for a long time and sometimes he gets mad when I tease him like I did today." Erik nodded, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he was talking to a whole _new _Christine.

"Well, it was a common courtesy that he should have learned a long time ago. You're welcome." Christine bit her lip, scrunching up her face. "Is there something else you wanted to talk about?" Erik grew weary.

"Listen..." She started, placing her palms down on the desk in front of her. "About yesterday..."

"Christine, I think it's best if we just pretend it never happened." Erik stated flatly, trying to avoid the situation as much as possible.

"But-"

"I'm getting married soon, Christine. What we did was stupid and neither of us should have consented to it, even if it was just... Oral sex... I can't stress enough just how stupid it was, okay? Just please, I think... I think it would be best if we just move on and never bring it up ever again, okay?" She was blinking profusely, gripping the straps of her backpack tightly. "Christine?" He whispered, reaching out to the quiet girl.

"Professor Lantier, I really like you..." She murmured through her almost closed lips. The broken tone of her voice shattered Erik's heart. He closed his eyes, pressing a hand to the uncovered side of his face. "I know you don't like me and that's okay, but I don't want to pretend it never happened... It was the best thing to ever happen to me..." She began to turn away, wiping away the stray tears that began to fall down her cheeks. Erik sighed heavily, rubbing his eye. Getting up from his chair, he slowly made his way over to the short girl. His heart was heavy and his mind was running every which way.

"Christine, wait." His voice was timid, tender. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her back ever-so-delicately. Caressing her cheek, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I don't want to pretend either, okay? We just have to... Have to find a way to make this work, okay? Can you wait while I figure a plan... For us?" She looked up at him with her green eyes, searching for the catch in his voice, the lie in his sentence. "I promise that you can be my little secret soon... You just have to patient, okay? Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" His voice was low, soft as his thumbs traced her cheeks. With a nod that could barely pass as a nod, she smiled weakly.

"I would do anything for you."

* * *

On the way home, Erik couldn't think straight. What the hell did he think he was doing? Was he insane? She was his student! He was engaged! He loved Bailey and he loved her... Yet there was something about Christine that made him want to comfort her, that made him want to give her the world. Erik had no clue as to what he had gotten himself into, but he didn't know what else to do once he saw how incredibly sad Christine got. She was like a kicked puppy and god, did he love her eyes. The way she would look up to him, because she was so short. Her voice was so innocent, so tender. He couldn't just let her walk out of his classroom door with that pathetic skulk! Erik slapped a hand to his forehead. What was he doing? He had no idea. He just knew that he had to get through tonight, just so he could see Christine tomorrow.

"Bailey?" Erik spoke through the narrow hallway. Walking through the hallway, he saw that none of the lights were on in any of the rooms. What day was it? Pulling out his phone, he quickly saw that it was Wednesday. She had Zumba tonight and after class, she always went out to dinner with her friend Gina. Making his way into his office, he sat down in his chair and dialed Christine.

"Hello?" She answered on the third ring.

"Christine, it's Erik." He heard some shifting as he propped his feet on his desk.

"Well hello, Professor Lantier. What brings you to the phone tonight?" She giggled softly into the phone, leaning against the stack of pillows she had on her bed.

"Bailey is out until about ten tonight. Do you want to go out to eat? It's only four." Erik smiled to himself, trying to hide his excitement.

"Why don't you come to my apartment? It's a one bedroom place and I have take out already here. We can be alone." Erik paused, trying to think of the best option.

"Christine, I can't go into your dorm room. I work at the school." She giggled more.

"I didn't say dorm! I said apartment. I live off campus, silly." Erik stood up, gathering his things.

"You're only a freshman, how'd you manage that?" She shrugged her shoulders, walking around her small apartment.

"My step-mom paid the school a lot of money to let me live off campus. Trust me, no one will ever know that you were here! I'll text message you my address. Hurry!" She clicked off the conversation, only to text message her address seconds later. Erik smiled at her eagerness while getting into his car. Plugging the destination into his navigation system, he soon arrived there in fifteen minutes. The apartment building was small, but it was suitable for a college student. Christine lived on the fifth floor, apartment 5c. It wasn't too fancy, just a few pieces of nice furniture here and there. Her cat was orange and white, fat too. That was her favorite part about living off campus, the fact that she could have her pet cat.

"This is a neat place, Christine." Erik smiled, taking off his coat. "What's your cat's name?" The cat curiously sat in front of the stranger, meowing at the tall man who stood at the door.

"André! He's very friendly. Just stick your hand out and let him sniff you first." The petite girl began unpacking the white bag of Chinese food, rubbing her hands together in excitement. "See... He likes you." André the cat was putting loudly as Erik picked it up and held it like a baby in his arms.

"Bailey is allergic to cats..." As Erik put down the cat on couch, he slowly made his way to the petite girl, resting his hands on her curvaceous hips. "It smells delicious."

"Chinese food is my favorite." She leaned back against his chest, snuggling against the warmth of his body. "Since you're tall, do you want to get the plates?" She pointed to the cabinet, smiling sweetly to the masked man. He brought down two red plates, setting them down on the counter. "Wine or beer?"

"Christine, you're not even 21..." He cautiously warned. She shrugged her shoulders, taking out two beers of her refrigerator. "Beers it is, then." Moving to her couch, she brought the four containers of food over and sat down beside the tall man.

"Where is Bailey tonight?" She asked, getting to work on the box of Chow Mein.

"She's at her Zumba class. It's two hours and then she teaches a class. Then she always goes to dinner at her friend Gina's house until about ten." Christine nodded, her mouth full of noodles. "Do you always eat dinner alone?"

"No, I have André," With a grin, Christine wiped her mouth of the middle grease. "And now, I have you... At least on Wednesdays."

* * *

"Erik, Erik!" Bailey's voice shook Erik awake from his deep sleep as he groaned, turning on his stomach. "Erik, come on, get up - you fat ass!"

"Come back to bed..." He tugged on her shirt, trying to get her back to bed, but he soon lost the battle when she stepped away from the bed.

"We're going to be late for Mindy's anniversary barbecue! It's already ten thirty! You never sleep in, come on fatty! You still have to shower and it starts at noon! It takes at least thirty minutes to get there and I know how you _love_ your long showers!" Her voice was getting high pitched and annoying. Her tiny hands pulled at his arms, trying to lug the man out of bed. "Fine, suit yourself. Just stay in bed all day!" Erik laughed into the pillows as he turned over, exposing his smile.

"If you kiss me, maybe I'll get up and shower." Reaching his arms up like a child, he brought his fiancée on top of him, bringing her face down for a nice smooch! "There, now go and let me shower!"

At the barbecue, Mindy and Gavin were celebrating ten years of being married. The happy couple were going around, announcing the news of their third pregnancy. With many congratulatory remarks, the oldest daughter, Diana, was the happiest. Mindy was from Iran, but raised in London and Gavin was from New York. Mindy's brother, Nadir was Erik's best friend. Nadir and Erik met in graduate school, getting their master's in Professional Writing. While Nadir was going towards a more non-fiction way of writing, he was paired with Erik in an assignment to write a piece on a musician he knew absolutely nothing about. Having to document the life of the musician, Erik was happy to share with Nadir his knowledge of music and the specifications of Mozart that would help him with his documentation.

"How is teaching going at the university?" Nadir's voice broke Erik's train of thought as he nudged his shoulder.

"It's great, yeah..." Erik smiled awkwardly, gripping the bottle of beer. "I teach four times a week to this group of upperclassman and one freshman." The image of Christine giggling soon entered his mind as he gazed out over the cliff side.

"Just one freshman? She's very smart, then?" Erik nodded, smiling at the thought of Christine.

"She's the smartest in the class." Nadir nodded along, patting Erik on the shoulder.

"She legal?" With a wink, Erik suddenly became very nervous. "A smart girl like that is hard to come by, my friend."

"What? No! I don't think like that! Nadir, no... Bailey, I love Bailey!" Erik protested, his palms beginning to feel sweaty. "I'm engaged, for Christ's sake!"

"Hey, hey. It's okay! I was just wondering." Nadir took a sip of his beer, scratching his nose. "A lot of professors have a thing with their students, Erik. It isn't uncommon."

"Well... I don't have a thing with any of mine... No... Christine is... Just a student..." Erik winced at the words, the taste of her name feeling sour as he lied through his lips. "I love Bailey." Suddenly, Erik's phone vibrated. "Sorry..." Erik clicked the phone on, seeing that he had one text message.

_From: Christine _

_To: Erik _

_How is the BBQ? I miss you. _

Erik sighed heavily, turning away from Nadir. Placing the beer bottle underneath his arm, he quickly replied to the message.

_To: Christine_

_From: Erik _

_It's lonely without you. I wish I was with you instead. I'll call you tonight. EL. _

Putting his phone in his pocket, he searched for the blonde locks, trying to be sociable. Finally landing on his fiancées ponytail, he casually strode over to her. She was talkative as usual, completely ignoring the fact that he was standing next to her. She was going on about the wedding once again, talking about flowers and centerpieces. Erik decided that he was bored. Placing a kiss on her cheek, he left to go inside and find somewhere to sit. Finding an empty couch, he sat down and pulled out his phone.

_From: Christine _

_To: Erik _

_What would we be doing if I were with you? Hopefully not standing around at a boring BBQ. ;) _

Erik smiled widely at the text message, hitting reply.

_From: Erik _

_To: Christine_

_I could think of one thing I would be doing... It rhymes with shoe. Do you know what I'm thinking of, Christine? EL_

Erik pressed send, feeling antsy. Placing the phone on his lap, he looked around for any loitering guests. With a satisfied nod, he waited patiently for a reply.

"Erik? Erik Lantier?" Erik turned around, quickly shoving his phone into his pocket. Standing to his feet, he met his eyes with a brown eyed man. "It is you!"

"Brandon Firmin! I haven't seen you in ages!" Truly, Erik couldn't be more annoyed at the moment. Brandon was an old college acquaintance of Erik's and he was more dull than an unsharpened pencil. They worked together in Paris on a project and to Erik's misfortune, Brandon was the manager. He made poor decisions, but in the end, Erik convinced Brandon that his notes were better and that he was the better owner.

"I know, it's been over ten years! Wow, you look great. I hear you're getting married." Erik smiled, shaking his hand politely. "Bailey LaFavre is a babe." Erik cringed, trying to hide his discomfort. "What are you doing these days, anyways?" _It's, 'anyway,' you dingus. _

"I'm a professor at the university. What are you up to, Brandon?" He shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner.

"Surfing mainly, I teach it too. Hey! We're both teachers. Wow, we've always kind of been like... One." Erik squinted, nodding along. Suddenly, Brandon gasped. "I gotta go man, the wife is expecting me back home!"

"The wife?" Erik was thoroughly confused. How could a dull dud like Brandon Firmin land himself a wife?

"Yeah, man! Her name is Paisley. She's also a total babe!" Brandon shouted as he ran the opposite direction. Erik exhaled a long huff of air, rolling his eyes. Just as if it was planned, his phone vibrated, making him believe in humanity once again.

_From: Christine _

_To: Erik _

_Just get to my apartment ASAP. I need you. _

Erik groaned at the text message, trying to clear his mind. He needed to find a way out of this stupid barbecue. They had already cut the cake and they already did the toasts. It was just a bunch of standing around and talking. Maybe, just maybe... He could convince Bailey that he needed to escape... With an irritated exhale, he pressed reply and nodded with an affirmative smile.

_From: Erik _

_To: Christine _

_I'm working on it. I'll let you know if I got away from this party. EL _

Erik made his way through the kitchen, patting the familiar bodies on the back. Making his way to his fiancée, she had migrated to Gina's table. With a margarita in hand, he knew that she was beginning to get a little bit tipsy. He took a seat beside her, rubbing the small of her back. Finally catching her attention after about five minutes of calling her name, she turned to him with a grin and a giggle. Yes, she was definitely tipsy.

"Yes, my love?" She giggled some more.

"A student just called me to tell me that they tried just dropping off an assignment, but my door was locked at the school. I need to go get the essay from them before the building locks, okay? I'll see you at home. Get Gina or Nadir to drive you home, okay?" She nodded with a head full of alcohol, kissing Erik sloppily, before taking another sip of her margarita. Erik turned towards Gina, making sure she got the message.

"Yes, I'll take care of her. Go." With a nod, erik turned to go, before Gina beckoned him back curiously. "Which student is it?"

"Raoul, Raoul de Chagny. He's always turning in things late." Erik was thankful that _his _name came out of his mouth instead of Christine's. With a convinced nod, Erik sped out of the house and to his car. Taking out his phone, he dialed Christine with a grin on his face. "Christine?"

"Erik!" She screamed into the phone. He flinched at her excitement, pulling away from the phone. "Are you coming over to my place?"

"I am." He simply stated as he started his car.

"Good. I'll see you soon, then?" With a giggle, he couldn't help but smile in response.

"I'll be there very soon. I promise."


	3. Chapter 3

**André and Guests**

* * *

Christine was beginning to move closer to the front of the class as time went on, her two friends growing suspicious. They knew that she was always fond of the subject of English, but they also knew that she succeeded in the subject even from the back of the classroom. English was obviously Christine's favorite subject, but she had never had an inclination to move to the front of the classroom - not until Professor Lantier came around that is.

"Orwell uses the dystopian world in 1984 to show how the future would be, how twisted and jacked up it would be if it let one person rule the government, that one person being Big Brother." Caden sat down, feeling proud of his summary of the novel that he read out loud to his class. The professor nodded slowly, trying to take in the summary in increments. "How'd I do, Teacher?"

"Well, you used the term, 'dystopian,' correctly and you got the gist of the novel in one sentence..." Erik led on, trying to sound as kind as possible. "It's the word choice that really irks me, Mr. Weatherly."

"What's wrong with it, Mr. Teacher Man?" The tall blond frowned, looking down at his thesis.

"I don't think George Orwell meant for his novel to exemplify how, 'jacked up,' a dystopian world would be if one person would run it. Yes, there would be pros and cons to a monarchy, but the term, 'jacked up,' is not the term I was quite going for, Mr. Weatherly. Try... Contorted or..." The professor thought for a moment before Christine's hands shot up in the air. "Yes, Miss Daaé?" He couldn't help, but smile.

"May I read my thesis, to maybe help him?" There were jealous whispers. Saved by the bell, Professor Lantier's phone alarm sounded and the students began to gather their belongings.

"Maybe on Friday, Christine." She frowned greatly, putting her belongings into her backpack. "Listen up kids, you owe me a revised thesis, a summary, AND an introduction paragraph on Friday! It's ten percent off if it's late, got it?" Raoul de Chagny grimaced at the points docked if he turned it in later. He had much better things to do, than sit at his desk and write a stupid paper! "It's ten percent off for everyday it's late."

The students eventually filed out, leaving Christine and Erik Lantier alone. She made her casual way up to the front and sat her bottom onto the wooden desk. Playing with all of his tiny trinkets and toys he had laying on the desk.

"Why do you have these?" Erik was locking the door when he heard the small voice beckon from his desk. With a smile, he closed the blinds and loosened his tie.

"Some students focus better during tests if they have a ball or something to squeeze. It keeps their mind off of the obvious tension of the exam." His brawny body eventually came over to the desk, sitting down in his chair with ease. "Christine, I can only stay until two and it's already one fifteen." Christine frowned again.

"Why? Why do you have to go?" She hated Thursdays.

"Bailey gets home at three and she would get suspicious if I got home later than her. I'm sorry..." Erik reached out his arms again, trying to get the curly haired girl over to his side of the desk. "Let me make it up to you with the time we have left, sweetheart." Christine smiled, placing herself in between his legs. With a giggle, she lifted her arms up as he pulled the thin piece of cloth over her head. "You're beautiful, you know that?" She blushed wildly as he picked her up and placed her on his desk.

"Yeah?" She inquired, pulling his shirt out of his pants, quickly fumbling with his belt. Her hands trailed down below, feeling him through the fabric. "We only have forty five minutes..." She mumbled sadly, taking his tie off and then his shirt. Burying the uncovered side of his face into the crook of her neck, the stubble tickled her skin as he dragged his teeth down her flesh, making sure she knew who she belong to. With a shaky exhale, her hands met his hardened sex through the zipper earning a more than pleasure groan.

"Oh sweetheart, there are so many things that can be accomplished in forty five minutes."

* * *

"Eh, Professor Guidicelli is pretty cool, but her temper is short." The short blonde girl shrugged, taking a large gulp of her strawberry smoothie. "I heard one time this kid tried to sneak in late and she made him stand in the middle of the class, sing a first soprano aria, and he didn't get to leave until he finished the aria!"

"Who is your favorite professor?" Antoinette asked as she tied her red hair up in a loose bun. "I like Professor Matlin." Meg, the blonde, vivaciously agreed. Both girls then in unison stared down the curly haired, green eyed girl. "What about you, Christine?" Christine gulped.

"Ummm..." She looked around the room, rubbing behind André's ears to distract herself. "I like Professor Lantier the best."

"Our advanced English and the advanced music theory professor?" Christine's eyes went wide, glittering with enthusiasm. "Yeah... He's the guy with the mask - super hunky!"

"He teaches music theory?" Christine inferred, placing André on her lap with a grin. "I had no idea."

"Apparently, he's some musical genius. He can compose a symphony like that!" With the snap of her fingers, Meg seemed to be amazed and in total awe of the mysterious professor. "His music theory class only has, like, eight students."

"Why?" Christine wondered. "That's strange."

"It only has eight students, because it's so hard to get into, dude. I tried getting auditioning for his class my sophomore year and all he said was, 'You're excused,' from the back of the auditorium. I couldn't really see him; he sat in the dark. He was all mysterious and phantom like." Antoinette shrugged with disappointment, chugging the last of her smoothie. "It wasn't until this year that I actually saw him. He didn't say much, but he's very nice... Nice looking!"

"Well, I think he's the best professor there is at school. He's very smart and he knows the books he teachers well. I had no idea he was a musician." Christine mentally took note of her man's abilities, taking out her phone.

"Christine, I have a question." Antoinette spoke up, washing her glass in the sink.

"Yes ma'am?" Her eyes glinted, turning towards the redhead.

"Whatever happened between you and Matt?" Christine froze in her seat.

"Uh, nothing. We just stopped talking, I guess..." Christine nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders, twirling a piece of her hair. Blinking slowly, she raised her watery eyes to the girls, hoping that this would be the end of this painful memory. "People change."

* * *

Erik sat at his TV, his legs propped up on the coffee table - a luxury he could almost never do growing up as a boy. It was five o'clock and Bailey wasn't home. This was unusual, considering that on Thursdays, she was always the first one home. Flipping through the channels, he absent-mindedly found a special on Beethoven. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back and let the voice of the commentator, soothe him into a deep sleep, a much needed slumber.

The harsh ringing of his home woke him, causing him to practically fall off the couch. Scatter brained, he frantically reached into his briefcase to get his phone.

"H-Hello?" He asked, completely out of breath.

"Darling! I'm so sorry, a terrible thing happened at the salon today. A hair dryer was left on Courtney's lunch break and it caught on fire and we had to call the fire department." She sounded sad, stressed out more than anything.

"Jesus, are you alright?" Erik rose to his feet, blinking furiously to try to regain his vision. "Tell me you're alright!" He pleaded.

"Oh, I'm fine. I wasn't there, but when I got back from lunch with Mindy, there were fire trucks and everything. Thankfully, no one was there. The whole back section of the salon was burnt down, though. Anyway, I called to tell you that I have to stay at Mindy's tonight to work on some paperwork and it's a shitload of paperwork." She was annoyed. He could hear Mindy in the background moving around something heavy. "I'm sorry, babe. Did you have dinner?"

"No, I was taking a nap and then the phone rang and woke me up, it's fine. I'll find something." Erik paused, looking into the almost-empty refrigerator. Pressing the phone against his ear and in between his shoulder, he whimpered at the poor sight in front of him. "Do you need me to bring you anything, Bailey?"

"Mindy has everything I'll need, babe. Get some rest and grade some papers, Erik. I'll call you tomorrow. I love you." Erik yawned trying to muster up an idea for dinner.

"I love you too." _Click. _Erik sighed, putting his phone in his pocket. Suddenly, he took his phone out and dialed Christine. She answered on the fifth ring. "Sweetheart." He breathed out with joy.

"I can't talk for long, Erik. I'm on my way to my next class. What's up, Professor Lantier?" He chuckled slightly, leaning against the cool tile.

"Bailey is gonna be gone for the night. Do you want come over after your class?" Christine eyes lit up in excitement. "We'll have the house all to ourselves."

"My class ends at seven. Text me your address?" Erik agreed, finally hanging up the phone. Soon after, Erik decided to go to the store to make some special arrangements before Christine arrived. Heading down to the local grocery store, he picked up some skirt steaks and vegetables to cook, a simple meal that he enjoyed. He moved to the dessert isle, mewing at all of the delicious delicacies. Erik finally decided on a red velvet cake with white frosting. Buying a dozen red roses, he awkwardly made his way to the cashier. He hated stores.

"Buying for your wife, for an anniversary?" Erik smiled politely, pulling out his wallet.

"Sure." He answered, watching the woman ring up his items.

"That'll be $37.68, sir." Erik pulled out his card, handing it to the woman. As he signed the keypad, Erik sighed noticing the red petals from his peripherals. He narrowed his eyes at the bouquet of roses. "Oh... Did you want those as well?"

"That would be good..." He seethed through his clenched jaw. The woman rolled her eyes, scanning the item.

"Cash or credit?" Erik took out a twenty dollar bill from his wallet, handing it to her. "Your total is $15.32 for the bouquet of roses." He nodded softly, gathering the bag of food and the bouquet of roses. "Thank you Mr. Lantier, have a nice evening." Erik got to his car, stuffing the bag of food in the backseat, putting the flowers in the front seat.

"Fuck, fifty two dollars... Bailey is gonna kill me..." Erik muttered, turning the ignition on, adjusting his rear view mirror. As soon as he got home, he went straight for the kitchen. 6:04pm. He had a little less than an hour to prepare dinner. Smiling to himself, he began cooking dinner, setting the table and putting the skirt steaks in some marinade and the vegetables out to defrost.

"Hello?" Bailey answered.

"Hey honey, where is the rice cooker?" Erik confusedly searched the kitchen, trying to search for all the ingredients he needed.

"It's in the third drawer, down to the right, under the stove. What are you making for dinner?" She sounded tired, yawning loudly in the phone.

"Just a beef bowl with some vegetables. It's nothing gourmet. How is Mindy's?" Erik mindlessly asked, taking out the rice cooker. "Everything okay?"

"The paperwork is a bitch, but the wine is certainly helping. What are you going to do tonight?" Erik filled the rice cooker with water, pouring the grains of rice into it with ease.

"I'm just going to grade some annotated books and start coming up with a mid term. It's that time of year, you know." Erik smiled slightly, trying to sound as enthused as he could. "My music theory class has a whole different mid term that I've already mapped out in my mind. I just have to put it on paper."

"Well, don't over work yourself. I know how stressed out you can get when mid terms start, Erik. It's bad for your migraines." Erik nodded, placing the phone beside him on the counter. He grabbed the vegetables from the bag, washing them in cool water. "What is the mid term going to be, anyway? For your English class, that is."

"A couple of essay questions, some matching... Probably some multiple choice." Erik shrugged, never really putting much thought into it. "Mostly essay orientated, I want my students to really understand the books and text. Multiple choice and matching are free points, you know?"

"Erik, don't make the test too hard. You want your students to pass." Bailey's voice was condescending. Erik knew that she struggled in school, college. She suffered from dyslexia and had a horrible stutter growing up, but she managed to graduate college with a 3.4 GPA. She had a soft spot for the de Chagny kid and all other kids who despised homework.

"My tests are passable, honey. Maybe if they did their homework once in a blue moon, they would pass my mid term." Erik was frustrated. 6:29pm. "Bailey, I have to go get started on the beef now, if I want to finish my grading by a decent hour. I'll call you tomorrow before I head off to class, okay?"

"Fine. Goodnight Erik, I love you." Erik rubbed his temples.

"I love you too."

* * *

With dinner almost ready and it being five after seven, Erik waited anxiously for Christine. He felt bad for cutting off his conversation with Bailey, but he was getting annoyed with her judgmental remarks about his teaching style. Tidying up the bedroom, he finally heard the doorbell ring. Rushing downstairs, he brought down with him the bouquet of red roses. Erik took a deep breath and opened the door, pleasantly surprised at what awaited him on his porch. She wore a lavender dress, a gray cardigan draping over her muscular shoulders. Her hair was tied in a tight French braid. She wore contact lenses this time.

"Christine, you look wonderful." Handing her the flowers, her green eyes widened at the beautiful sight. "These are for you."

"Erik, you shouldn't have; they're absolutely gorgeous." She took a flower between her fingers, smelling the petal's sweet scent. Gesturing for her to join him inside, she stepped inside the red painted house. A few stray moving boxes graced the wooden floor as she took in her surroundings. Erik had a large collection of books, which would make sense because he was an English teacher. In the corner of the living room was a grand piano, shinier than ever.

"Dinner is almost ready, Christine. Make yourself comfortable." Christine sat down on the brown couch, scanning the room for hints as to who Erik was. She could tell that his fiancée did most of the decorating.

"Did you just move here?" Erik nodded, bringing two glasses of red wine to her.

"About three weeks ago we moved into this house. It's nice, I guess." Erik shrugged his shoulders, handing the glass of wine to Christine. "How was class?"

"Boring, I hate math. I'm not good at it." Christine pouted, take a whiff of the delicious wine. "Do you play piano?"

"Yes, I do. I also play violin." Erik paused, glancing over at the grand piano. "I teach Advanced Music Theory at the university, you know." Christine nodded knowingly, taking a sip of the wine. "How did you know?"

"My friend Antoinette told me. She's in your English class too. She told me she's auditioned for your class and that you hated her!" Christine giggled loudly, blushing furiously at the professor who sat beside her.

"I hate no one! She was just fine, but she just wasn't what I was looking for in a voice. I told her to come back her senior year. She still has one more year." Christine rolled her eyes at the professor, turning around and sighing happily. Leaning back into his chest, she snuggled up against the warmth of his body. "Did you write that essay on purpose, Christine?" The thought had been looming in his mind for quite some time, but the silence was uncomfortable and the words spilled out before he could stop them.

"Well..." She began, placing her hand on his thigh. "I knew that it would get your attention and that you would _probably _want to talk to me about it. All I wanted was for you to talk to me, Erik..." Christine had set her glass of wine down on the coffee table, her eyes dark with lust. She straddled the tall man, pulling at the hairs at the back of his neck. "Whether I wrote it on purpose or not... I still got your attention, no?"

"Yes, you did." He whispered, peeling off her sweater. Her skin was hot, the flesh heated with desire. His lips met her shoulder, then her neck as he sucked on the skin endlessly with passion. She made some cute noise, sending Erik into oblivion. With one swift motion, Christine was on her back and the tall professor was on top of her. His hands grabbed her thighs, squeezing her taut muscles. He aimlessly wondered where she got her muscle from as he lifted her dress up to her waist. "N-No underwear?" Christine bit her lip as she eyed her English teacher up and down, his eyes practically bulging out of his head.

"What? Did you want me to wear them?" She giggled softly, her laugh permeating the thick, hot air between them. Batting her eyelashes not-so-innocently, his fingers found her wet, oh so wet sex and she couldn't help but moan out in pleasure. "Teacher... What... What are you d-doing?" She breathed out, his fingers moving dangerously slow. His thumb found her swollen clit, pressing down on it gently. Pleased with her erotic responses, he leaned down to her collar bone and placed two kisses on either side. She could feel him smiling against her skin in victory, sweet, sweet victory.

"I'm doing what you asked me to do..." He whispered against her skin, his fingers curling tightly hitting _that _spot that caused her to arch her back and buck her hips.

"I-I... N-Never asked you for anything!" She cried out, rolling her hips in euphoric longing. With a truncated laugh, he leaned down and curled his fingers once more, putting pressure where he knew she could do nothing, but writhe in an insurmountable wave of pleasure.

"You come to me with no underwear and this is your punishment. Now, be a good girl and tell me who you belong to."

Oh, how it felt good to be in charge. She bucked her hips against his fingers, wanting more push, more friction. He gave no such give. He at a excruciatingly slow pace began to pull his fingers out of her, her wetness hitting the cool air surrounding them. He glanced down at his fingers, glancing back at the frustrated girl whose eyes were clouded with lascivious thoughts. Biting her lip, she nodded furiously, hoping that he would give into her helplessness.

"Tell me!" He shouted. Erik tore his shirt off, her eyes trailing down the toned chest. Before she could look any farther, one hand was on her covered breast, teasing her nipple through the thin fabric. His other hand was deep within her, his fingers curling and scissoring; a sensation she had never felt before. "Christine, tell me who you belong to..." His tone was sultry, his thumb moving in circles on her clit. With one last defeated moan, she looked up at him with impossibly wide eyes, giving in to the one man she would give anything and everything to, willing and full-heartedly.

"You, you Professor Lantier! I'm all yours teacherrrrrr..." She breathed out, her chest heaving with an inexplicable surge of desire. His eyes darkened as he leaned forward, pressing his lips onto her jaw. With a final curl of his fingers, he gentle placed a kiss to her quivering jaw and exhaled deeply, knowing that this was going to be a long night.

"All mine, kitten... And don't you ever forget it."


	4. Chapter 4

**Location, Location, Location**

* * *

"As you know, midterms are coming up next week and then off you kids go to Thanksgiving break, two weeks later." Erik lectured to his class as he leaned on his desk. Half of them nodded and half of them were asleep. He hated Monday morning classes. "It's strange to think that it's already October." Erik mused to himself, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Have you already written the midterm, Teacher?" Erik tapped his nose with a warm smile, pointing to the young brunette in the second row, earning a _more than_ flirtatious giggle.

"Yes I have! Let's take some time to talk about the midterm, shall we?" His students groaned harmoniously. Turning towards the desk, he grabbed a stack of papers and began to hand a pile to each person in the front of the row. "Take one and pass it down, kids. This is your midterm study guide. I'm not saying that these topics will not be on the midterm, I'm not saying that they will be on the midterm. I would just go over the study guide _copiously _and _diligently _if I were you." Raoul de Chagny scratched his head at the unfamiliar vocabulary words. As the students began flipping through the study guides, Erik noticed that Christine had _not _opened her guide.

"Teacher?" Another girl asked rather loudly.

"Yes, Ms. Lee?" Erik focused his attention towards her, tilting his head from side to side, just for the fun of it.

"Will we have to memorize any of the passages from the three books we've read?" Erik shook his head rapidly like a child. With a grin, he walked back up to his desk.

"No, ma'am. I will provide everything you will need. All you need to bring is your pretty little self and what you suppose you'll be using to analyze quotes, passages, characters, character arcs, time periods... You know, all that jazz." Erik had met eyes with Christine, smiling towards her direction. "All you'll need to bring... Is yourself." He breathed out as he watched the green eyes beauty chew on her pen.

"Is the midterm-" Erik's phone went off, making the students happier than he usually sees them. He repeated the importance of the study guides as he gathered his belongings, making sure he locked the classroom door behind him. Turning around, he was met with big brown eyes and batting eyelashes.

"Hi, Professor Lantier!" A very giddy voice chirped up, waving at Erik. The masked man was startled, stumbling backwards into the door.

"Ms. Cooper, how can I help you?" His voice was smooth as he ushered her into the hallway, beginning to walk with the five foot six brunette girl. She was hyper, an average student. She tested well, but almost never did her homework. If it wasn't for her excellent test taking skills, she probably wouldn't be passing his class.

"I was just wondering about your, uh, midterm, sir." She nodded slightly, clinging to her books.

"What about it?" He opened the door for her, leading down the narrow stairwell. "Is there a subject about it that you are having difficulty with, Ms. Cooper?"

"Ummmmm... I know that I have a decent grade, but for some reason I'm really nervous about the midterm." She began, _flitting _down the stairs. "I'm not that good at writing essays... Well, you would know that... You read my essays and mark them up a lot..." She was blushing. Erik exhaled nervously, opening the next door for her that leaded out to the quad.

"You test well, my dear. You shouldn't have a problem with the midterm." He reassured her, glancing at his watch. "How about I meet with you after class this week and we can talk about your essay writing? I must go to my music theory class, but I would love to help you if you're feeling worried about your essay." Erik smiled widely, patting her on the shoulder. The girl beamed up at the teacher, her brown eyes glittering in the California sun.

"Oh! That would be marvelous, thank you!" She clapped excitedly, holding out her hand. "I'll see you tomorrow, Teacher." Erik let out a small laugh, shaking her hand. As she left, Erik turned around and made his way across the large quad. Finally reaching the A. Giry's Music Hall, he smiled to himself, knowing that music theory was his favorite class. Making his way to the third floor, he unlocked his classroom and began preparing for his next class, which started in twenty minutes. Soon, the vibration in his phone interrupted his routine preparations.

"Erik Lantier." He spoke into the phone, completely distracted by the sheet music in front of him.

"Erik, it's Bailey!" She screamed into the phone, more excited than anything. He smiled slightly, placing the phone atop the piano. Putting the phone on speaker, he continued to organized his notes. "Guess what?!" She screamed again.

"You won the lottery?" He replied with a dry tone.

"Ha ha, very funny. No, this is better than the lottery!" Erik nodded, marking down something on the sheet music in front of him, totally devoid of his fiancées elation.

"Go on, dear." He flatly responded, engulfed in his music. With a pause, his fiancée took a deep breath and announced a breaking story that he _should have _been happier hearing, but something within him just made his response quite linear.

"You know the location we wanted for our wedding; the one with the beautiful view that was going to take another _two _years to get, but we decided on the church instead, because we didn't want to wait?" Erik hummed along, grazing his fingertips over the white keys in harmony. "Well..." She paused in suspense. "We got the cliff side wedding, Erik!" She was clapping and, 'Woohoo-ing,' very loudly. "This one couple decided last minute to make their wedding a destination wedding and our planner called me this morning to tell us that we got the opening slot!"

"Wow, that's great, Bailey!" Erik smiled shortly, scratching his head in confusion at his student's work. "I'm glad that you'll finally have your dream wedding, my dear." Erik tried to sound more enthused, but he was multi-tasking, really. Thinking about Christine while grading 16 bar arias, while listening to his fiancée yelp about their cliff side wedding was more difficult than he thought it would be. "My class is going to start in seven minutes, dear. I'll call you afterwards?"

"Of course! I love you, Erik." She was full of joy, nothing more and nothing less.

"I love you too, dear." Erik shoved his phone in his brief case, finally focusing on his student's work. He was thoroughly disappointed with this week's homework. Was it so difficult to compose 16 bars of their own symphony? Erik rubbed his temples. "What is he doing putting this chord under this G sharp?! This is an andante not a legato!" Erik roared, trying his hardest not to rip out his hair. This was a simple assignment, really. He didn't understand why a group of audition-only students could not complete it to his standards.

"Excuse me... Are you Professor Lantier?" Erik's head jerked towards the door. He was sure he locked it. A tall man, only about two inches shorter than him stood in the doorway. He had blond hair, just like Bailey. His eyes were curious as he peered into the empty classroom. Erik took a deep breath, straightening out his shirt. With a nod, he approached the stranger.

"I am. May I ask who you might be?" Erik held out his hand for the man, only to be given a strange glare. "Or not..." Erik mumbled, pulling his hand back into his pocket.

"I am Aaron, Aaron Gershwin." He bowed awkwardly in front of Erik. He must be a foreigner. "I am here to sing for you, I hear you are a great composer."

"I am no composer, Mr. Gershwin. I'm just a professor here." Erik reassured him, trying to figure out what exactly was going on at the moment. "Maybe you are looking for a different professor?" He shook his head, fumbling for a piece of paper. Holding it out to Erik, Erik gently grabbed the paper from him.

"No, no. The lady sent me to look for you, Professor Lantier. She said you are a great composer and that you could help me with my singing." Erik eyed the paper. He _knew _that handwriting. Handing the paper back to the stranger, he cleared his throat.

"Who sent you here?" Erik asked curiously, catching eyes with one of his students. The man smiled widely, a smile Erik would know anywhere.

"Bailey LaFavre, my half sister." Erik's eyes went wide. "She said I could find you here."

"I didn't know Bailey had a brother." Erik said with skepticism. The boy tried to enter the classroom, but Erik swiftly moved to side blocking the doorway. No one was allowed into the sanctuary of music, besides the eight students and Erik himself. "Why do you want to sing for me?"

"I hear you are a great composer, I have listened to your past work. Erik eyed the man strangely, trying to get a grip on the situation at hand. "I am sorry to hear about your accident." The man glanced at the white mask, pointing to it with his index finger. "It is a shame that you stopped composing after your accident." Erik was beginning to get angry. "I hope you listen to this, I worked hard on putting together an audition tape. Until then, Professor Lantier." The man smiled, handing Erik a CD. Turning on his heel, he left Erik in the doorway. Soon, Erik's students began filling the sanctuary, looking at their instructor oddly. Silence fell over the room as Erik stood awkwardly at the piano with the CD in his hand.

"Professor?" Faith questioned, breaking the silence. Erik looked up and towards the tall African American. Dropping the CD to the ground, Erik stomped on it viciously, making his students flinch.

"If someone is to audition for me, they shall audition in the flesh." Erik nodded, proceeding to sit on the piano bench. Clearing his throat he began thinking about Aaron. "Does anybody know that boy?" The eight students shook their heads. Erik sighed in disappointment, grazing the keys with his fingertips. With a final nod, Erik cleared his head and pressed on middle C with a smile, a smile that could break a heart in seconds. "Shall we begin?"

* * *

Erik let out a huge sigh, moving his arm behind his head. He couldn't help, but think about Aaron. He hadn't told Bailey about what occurred almost three days ago. At this point, he probably would never tell her. Closing his eyes, he soon felt a smaller body rest upon his chest. She was warm, her sopping wet hair trickling down his torso. It cooled him down. With a long exhale, he opened one eye and smiled at the sight. "Hello, kitten."

"Hi, teacher." Christine turned over on her stomach, moving her leg on top of Erik's. She rested her chin on his sternum, making him inhale sharply. "Sorry." She giggled lightly, tracing swirls on his chest.

"I like Wednesdays." Erik murmured closing his eyes once again. "How was history class?"

"It was fine, I'm good at history. It's just memorizing what event goes with what name, easy stuff." Erik hummed happily, feeling Christine shift beneath him. "Tell me something, teacher... Educate me."

"What do you want to know?" Christine sat up revealing her very naked body. Erik couldn't help, but open his eyes and devour the sight.

"Where did you meet your fiancée?" Erik felt an awkward stirring in his stomach as he coughed slightly, trying to think of the answer. It was very difficult seeing that there was a naked Christine in front of him. "I mean does she do music like you do music?"

"I was very young, so was Bailey..." He began with an uneasy blink. Erik adjusted his mask, sitting up to clear his mind. "We met in college, you see. She was studying cosmetology and I was studying to be a music major, with a minor in English. I was at a different school than her, but she just so happen to be at the dermatology office I went to that day. She helped me with... My disfigurement." Erik shrugged his shoulders, looking at Christine whose expression he could not read. "She was kind to me, gentle. She did not judge me, she helped me. I guess we just bonded and next thing I knew... I proposed to her." Erik shrugged again, showing no sigh of enthusiasm. Erik was stoic, dispassionate by his story of finding love. Christine was thoroughly mystified at the way he illuminated his true aloof feelings towards his fiancée.

"How long did you two date before you proposed to her?" Christine tried to sound as interested as possible.

"Maybe four or five years on and off, I don't quite remember. I was in enrolled in two schools, striving to get my dual masters degree in Musical Eduaction - a MMEd - when I proposed to her." Christine sat in awe of him, the most brilliant man she had ever met. She thought to herself, 'What was a girl like Bailey LaFavre doing with someone like Erik?' Certainly he could have any woman in the world! "I was also trying to achieve my MA." Christine was stunned, floored.

"Jesus, Erik... How many degrees do you have?" Erik chuckled to himself, pulling the green eyed on top of him once more. Resting her body on his torso, she stared at her teacher in complete veneration. "Don't tell me you're a doctor, too." Gradually, a large grin appeared on his face.

"I received my Ph.D in Music Composition from NYU by the time I was 26-" Christine's jaw dropped as she shook her head in utter disbelief.

Her eyes were irradiated, sparkling; her smile radiant as ever. She covered her mouth with her tiny hands in incredulity, her excitement rising. She began viciously pointing at the masked man as he slowly began to blush. She suddenly realized that he was _that _man that everyone talked about four years ago, the man who had composed his first symphony by age five - a child prodigy. He when he finally shot to fortune and fame, something tragic happened to him and he disappeared and no one heard from him. He disappeared like a phantom in the shadows. Four years later, a man who bore a mask became a teacher a local university in California who had an uncanny resemblance to the phantom composer, but he denied it many times, over and over again. The teacher denied profusely that he was not the phantom composer, he was just a man, just a teacher. Suddenly, the rumors of the phantom composer disappeared and everyone seemed to forget about him, everyone but one person.

"Erik Lantier... Otherwise known as Kian Literré, your nom de plum." Erik nodded, placing his large hands on her waist. "I can't believe I'm sitting naked on top of the great Literré..." She breathed out, placing her hands on top of his chest in astonishment. "Does Bailey know about this?" He nodded once more.

"She helped me after the accident, I felt like we connected in some way. I needed to start over and she knew that too. She's been with me ever since then." Christine smiled softly, finally understanding the reason behind his indifference towards his engagement.

"How did you finish all this schooling in such a short amount of time? Usually a doctorate degree takes forever..." Christine pondered, trying to comprehend the genius that lay beneath her.

"I finished college in three years, I finished by the time I was twenty. I got my MMEd when I was twenty two, my MA the following winter. At twenty four, I received my masters in Music Theory and Composition. By the time I was twenty six, I had gotten my Ph.D. I love learning, I love school. I would have gone on, if it weren't for the accident." Erik's expression turned melancholy, his tone gravelly and dismal. He shook his head clear of the tragedy.

"How long have you been a teacher?" Christine yawned, her eyes growing sleepy. She was tired from the activities she and her teacher had followed through with that afternoon, but the growing stress of midterms coming up was a greater weight to bear.

"Almost eleven years. I began teaching when I was twenty four. Christine, you must understand that I am almost thirty five. I'm much older than you are, sweetheart." Christine shrugged, leaning down towards the masked man. With her breasts pressed against his chest, his fingertips trailed her spine lightly, barely grazing the skin.

"Well, I don't care how old you are, Erik. You're still my teacher and I'm still your kitten." She lazily laid a kiss on his neck, sliding comfortably next to him. Burrowing underneath his arm, she sighed happily and closed her eyes. "Erik..." She mumbled half asleep, half awake.

"Yes?" His eyes were closed at this point. Christine's tone turned sad, her grip tight across his chest. She sounded as if she was about to cry. She had processed all of the information that he had relayed to her and truly, only one thing mattered. There was only one thing standing in Christine's way and she had no idea of how to go about it without showing obvious signs of emotional attachment. This was just a hook up, between a teacher and a student; it isn't uncommon.

"Do you really want to marry her, Erik?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Questions and Answers **

_"Do you really want to marry her?"_

* * *

Erik inhaled sharply causing Christine to sit up, her curly hair falling over her chest - how _convenient_. Erik ran a hand through his hair, sitting up to meet Christine's gaze. She was concerned, her brow furrowing inward to create a crease on her small forehead. She searched Erik's mismatched eyes as he fished for an answer, the truth. Christine was breathing softly as she shook her head, grabbing her teacher's hands with an apologetic expression. Pressing a kiss to his hand, she nodded firmly and threw her legs over the side of the bed, bringing the bed sheet with her.

"Where are you going?" Erik asked curiously, suddenly realizing that he was completely nude.

"I'm hungry. Do you want something?" He eyed the sheet, then glanced down at his exposed self. With a giggle, she handed the sheet back to him. "I'm sorry, teacher." Christine grabbed Erik's button-up shirt from the floor and draped it over her petite body, scurrying to the kitchen. Suddenly, Erik's phone began to ring, causing him to spill the water on the bed that he was drinking.

"Shit!" He yelled, frantically running over to his pants to retrieve his phone. Emptying his pockets onto the chair, he grabbed his phone and answered it as smoothly as he could. "Hello? Hello?"

"Hello dear!" Bailey's happy voice rang through the phone. "Where are you?"

"I'm-I'm still at the school. You know, midterms are next week and I'm having to prep a lot for them, the tests. What do you need?" Erik smacked himself in the face, mentally hitting himself over the head with a hammer for sounding like a fool.

"Oh, I was just wondering where you were! I'm just heading off to my Zumba class. I'll be out with Gina tonight." Erik could hear her unlock her car door - he was in the clearing. "Well, don't work too hard my dear, I know how you get." Erik's eyes practically fell out of his head as they trailed up Christine's naked figure. His little kitten was leaning against the door frame, _seducing _him with strawberries.

"Y-Yeah..." He breathed out, his heart racing. Christine had heated up some hot fudge and scooped some up with her finger. "Holy..." Erik mumbled, dropping the phone. Thankfully, he caught it before it hit the floor.

"Erik? Is everything okay?" Erik rubbed his eye, shaking his head.

"Everything is great! I just spilled some coffee on one of my student's essays accident. Silly me!" Erik shut his eyes, trying to shield himself from the siren in the doorway.

"Are you sure you're alright? You sound awfully frantic? Honey, I don't want you to get another headache. I know how cranky you get when you get a headache."

"_STOP_!" He mouthed to Christine, who had now sprayed whipped cream down the crevice of her breasts. She was giggling to herself, paying no attention to her teacher. Throwing her head back, she moved the can of whipped cream down to the point of no return. "I'm really quite fine, I gotta go! Bye!"

"Oh, okay! Well, I love y-" _Click. _Erik threw his phone down on the chair, his ears filled with the harmonious sound of Christine's giggling.

"Teacher..." She purred, spraying some whipped cream onto her finger. Erik crawled onto the bed, situating himself between her legs. She was covered in cream. "Suck." Sticking out her finger, Erik took her whipped cream covered digit in his mouth, the sweetness of the cream and the softness of her skin filling the heat of his mouth. She exhaled a shaky breath at the sensation of his tongue circling her finger, his teeth dragging at the flesh of her finger ever-so-delicately. Popping her finger out of his mouth like a lollipop, Christine laid back on the pillows as Teacher hovered over her.

"That was _very_ bad, what you did..." Christine bit her lip, looking up into his eyes, her own eyes dark with lust. "Teasing me while I was on the phone with her..." Christine shrugged her shoulders, smiling not-so-innocently.

"Well, if you're so mad about it, why don't you punish me? We have until ten and it's only... Seven." Erik grabbed the can of whipped cream with a devilish smile. Shaking the can of cream, he began spraying the cool sweet topping in a line down her sex. Nodding in approval of his work of _art_, he bent his head down and smiled up at the student.

"You should know kitten, whenever I'm on the phone... You should never tease me." Christine gasped at the collision of sensations once her teacher's tongue met with the cream above her sex. He smoothly moved his tongue up and down, lapping up all of the white cream, sucking at the swollen nub. "And you're right..." He mumbled, glancing up at his student. Christine's eyes were closed, her back arched as she bit her bottom lip. Without any warning, Erik pressing two fingers into her, moving at a slow, painfully tempo. "A lot of things can be accomplished in three hours."

"Ah, Teacher..." She exhaled, clawing at the sheets beneath her. He ignored her pleas. Holding down her bucking hips with his free hand, he curled his fingers within her and moved his tongue up and down her once again. He pressed on _that _spot relentlessly, making sure she knew that teasing him while he was on the phone was _not _an option. Christine was breathing roughly. "T-Teacherrrrrrr..." Erik reached up to caress her full breast, cupping it as he moved with a fast tempo.

"What do you want, Christine?" He whispered against her taut thighs, his teeth nipping at the skin. His thumb rolled circles on the swollen nub. "Tell me... Tell your teacher what you want..." She looked like she was trying to talk, but she couldn't get the words out of her mouth.

"I... I... Ohhhhh..." She sighed in pleasure as her teacher pressed on her clit, teasing it endlessly. She could feel his fingers in him once more. "Tea... Teach..." She could barely form words.

"Christine, tell the teacher what you want..." He whispered as he hovered over her once again. His fingers were still in her, moving ridiculously slow, trying to coax the answer out of her. He could come right now just feel her tighten around his fingers. Erik groaned at the sensation. Burying his face into her neck, he sucked on her neck, sure to leave a mark tomorrow. "Tell Erik what you want..." With a final press to that spot, Christine rolled her hips with his motions and clawed at his back, pressing his head further into her neck.

"You. I want you!" She cried out as she rose out her orgasm on his hand. Panting heavily, she lifted Erik's head and looked into his eyes. Pressing her lips to his, she took an uneven breath. "You... I want you..." She whispered, turning him onto his back.

His expression turned frightened as he took a sharp breath. She rest on his torso, leaning down placing a trail of light kisses down his chest. With a deep breath, she lowered herself down on him. Erik gasped as he gripped tightly on her hips, waiting for her to adjust herself. She felt amazing. Christine exhaled, pressing her palms flatly against his chest and with her infamous giggle, she started off on a slow rhythm. Erik smiled up at his student, finally realizing the answer to her question. As she began to move, he felt something within him, within his heart. He couldn't explain it. They moved perfectly together, her body against his, her fingers intertwined with his. Erik was in bliss and total ecstasy. Sitting up to meet a new sensation, Erik moved Christine's curly hair to the side, his lips lightly grazing her collarbone. Pressing her body as close as he could, he mumbled the words he would make sure she would never forget, now as they've become one.

"You have me, always."

* * *

Midterms were finally over - for both of his classes - and he finally had a couple days off of school. Erik couldn't remember where he felt a heavier weight lifted. For some reason, his music theory midterm was more of a bitch than it was last year. His students seemed to have had amnesia or something, he couldn't comprehend why they were doing so horribly in his class. He just wanted to get to the four day weekend - who didn't?

"Erik!" Bailey greeted her fiancé as he walked into the living room, sighing in relief. "You look exhausted, babe."

"Midterms are a bitch." Bailey smiled, grabbing her fiancé's coat. "How are you, my dear?"

"I'm good. The salon is finally going to be ready to be reopened - well the back part, anyway." Erik nodded, distracted by Christine's image in his head. "Hey Erik, I have a question."

"Yes?" Bailey blinked a few times, her blonde ponytail swishing back and forth.

"You have four days off of work, right?" Erik gave a nod as Bailey looked around the room curiously. "Well..." She began, tracing patterns on the table. "I was wondering..."

"If you could go to that beauty salon convention this weekend with Mindy?" Bailey was surprised, confused mostly. Erik placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, standing to his feet. Stretching his arms up and over his head, he walked into the kitchen. "You don't need my permission, Bailey. You're thirty three years old. Will you be taking the train or driving?" Bailey was still perplexed. She stood in the archway, tilting her head in utter disorientation. "What?" Erik asked, stuffing a cookie into his mouth.

"How did you know about the convention?" Erik finished chewing, wiping his hands of the excess crumbs. "Did I already ask you about the convention?"

"No, no. I saw the pamphlet on the bathroom counter. How did you think I found out, dear?" Now, Erik was the confused one. Bailey shrugged her shoulders, slowly backing out of the kitchen. "Bailey?"

"I just thought maybe you called Mindy." Bailey was smiling, tidying up the coffee table. Erik narrowed his eyes in skepticism, walking out towards his distant fiancée. "That's all, Erik." She pushed past him, walking up the stairs. He soon followed.

"Do you have _something else_ to share with the class?" Erik followed Bailey into the bedroom. Bailey tore off her loose shirt, throwing it into the hamper. She didn't wear a bra. "Bailey, put a shirt on for Christ's sake!" Erik groaned at the sight. Bailey was toned, she was a Zumba instructor. As she walked around the closet half naked, Erik leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest. "Bailey, how did _you _think _I _found out about the convention... Or better yet, why are you acting so weird?"

"Weird? I'm not acting weird!" She threw her hands up defensively.

"Why is it such a big deal that I found out about the convention before you asked me about it?" Bailey finally put a sports bra on, making Erik's thought process easier.

"It's not a big deal, okay? Let's just drop it. I'm going to be late for my class." Bailey grabbed her Nike's and workout bag, yet again pushing past Erik. "I'll see you tonight. Don't forget to eat dinner."

"Wait! It's not Wednesday! Where are you going?" Erik chased Bailey down the stairs, grabbing her arm gently before she could escape out the front door. "Bailey Sierra LaFavre, where the _hell _are you going?" Erik seethed through his teeth. He was angry, very angry. Bailey rolled her eyes, moving out of his grip.

"What, so you can stay after school to grade stupid English papers and dumb musical notes for five hours and I can't go to an extra class?" She spat back at him, tapping her foot in impatience. "Erik, it's just another Zumba class. Calm the fuck down."

"We don't have _the money _for another fucking Zumba class!" Erik shouted at the blonde. "Those classes cost a lot of money - money that we don't have, Bailey! We're trying to pay for a wedding right now, a cliff side wedding!" Bailey averted her eyes to the floor, blinking furiously at his angry words. The engagement ring sparkled in the sunset, streaming through the windows. Bailey sighed, shaking her head in determination. Pushing Erik aside, she made her way for the front door, hoping to God that he didn't follow her - that would truly be the miracle of the evening.

"Well... Maybe if you stopped _teaching_ music and started _writing_ it yourself again, we'd have the money to spend on _one _more Zumba class."

* * *

"She's right you know." Christine spoke gently as she took another piece of pizza.

"I like teaching, Christine. Composing isn't what I want to do, anymore. Besides, if I was a composer, I wouldn't get to see you everyday." Christine blushed at his comment, biting into the warm cheese pizza. Erik pressed the speakerphone button as he leaned back on his office chair.

"That would be a problem then, wouldn't it?" Christine giggled, wiping her hands on a napkin. "Do you have sex with her?" Erik almost fell out of his chair when he heard Christine's question.

"Christine!" He scolded her through the phone, feeling very awkward and uncomfortable. "I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you."

"Basically, you're telling me that you don't have sex with her." Erik wanted to pull his hair out as she sounded completely serious at her obscene questioning. "Is she bad in bed, then?"

"Christine Daaé!" He shouted again. "You can't just ask people that!"

"From what I've gathered is that you never have sex with your fiancée, because she's bad in bed." Christine giggled hysterically, picking up another piece of pizza. "Come on, a mistress has the right to know." Erik slid his hand down his face in agony. Taking a deep breath, he leaned back on his chair again.

"We almost never have sex, Christine. She's very tired from working all day at the salon and then her classes, then whenever I try to get her to bed, she always makes up an excuse. Whenever I _do _get her to bed, it's very short and she ends up finishing quickly and falling asleep. It's not like how it used to be, I'll tell you that." Christine leaned back in her couch, the sound of André's purring causing her to smile. "Our relationship is not what is used to be, but maybe after we get married, it'll change." Christine dropped her piece of pizza once she heard the m-word.

Her heart fell into the pit of her stomach, churning endlessly into an abyss of despair. She felt like crying, but no - she couldn't let Erik hear her defeat! She's just a girl... A student. Once the school year was over, he would get a new wave of students and classes; he would forget all about his kitten and hell, he'd even be married by then. Even so, she couldn't shake the feeling of being hopelessly in love with her teacher and how distraught she felt whenever he said the m-word around her. She twirled a piece of hair around her finger, shutting her eyes tightly to try and clear her mind of the unrequited feelings that overtook her at that moment, yet nothing seemed to help, nothing is going to help.

"Christine? Are you still there, kitten?" Erik's voice broke her silence as she slowly opened her eyes. Tears unwillingly streamed down her face as she wiped them away quickly, trying to avoid suspicion.

"Y-Yes, hello! I'm still here. I was just cleaning up my dinner!" Christine slapped herself in the forehead for sounding so stupid. "Listen, I'm gonna go now. I'll see you later, Erik. Bye-"

"Wait! Christine, what's wrong?" Christine bit her lip. "Something's wrong..." Erik could sense it in her urgency.

"No, nothing is wrong. I just really have to go now. Have a nice weekend, okay? Relax and get some much needed sleep, okay Erik? I'll call you tomorrow!" Christine put the decorative pillow over her face, preparing to scream into it when he hung up, if he ever did.

"No, no, no. Not so fast, Christine. Bailey is leaving for the weekend. Do you want to come over and stay with me?" Christine removed the pillow and sighed. "We can go away for the weekend, Christine. I know just the place." His voice was smooth, calm. Christine's heart melted once again, just as it did on the first day of school. "Just us two for four days, how does that sound? I'll buy you all the Chinese food you want. You can even bring André." Christine took a deep breath, looking at the fat cat beside her. He was laying in his back like a dog, purring furiously as he slept.

"Erik..." Christine mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"Christine..." He mimicked her tone, leaning forward onto his desk. With a defeated sigh, she stood up and actually picked up the empty box of pizza this time. Heading towards the kitchen, she placed the box on top of the trash can and headed into her room. Falling on top of her bed, she cursed the day that Erik Lantier first thought of ever becoming an English teacher.

"I'll go with you to wherever you want to take me, on one condition." Erik smiled widely, knowing that his plan for the weekend was slowly all coming together. Christine took a deep breath and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the answer to her condition, only knowing that it could be _very _bad or _so _bad that he would never speak to her again, and truly she would want the lesser of two evils. "You play me some of your music,_ Dr. Lantier._"

* * *

Christine was frantic as she looked down at the barely packed suitcase on her bed. Erik was going to be there in fifteen minutes to pick her and André up to take them to the mystery destination and she was barely packed! He had told her little about the actual destination, leaving her no clue about how to pack. All he told her was to, 'Bring your pretty self, that's all you'll need.' Christine was frustrated and annoyed at the point of the conversation. Her she stood with a barely packed a suitcase and fifteen minutes left to pack for a four day weekend. She was about ready to pull out her hair. Stomping her foot on the ground with aggravation, she turned around to face her closet and took a deep breath.

"Fuck it!" She yelled out, grabbing four pairs of jeans and four skirts. Moving to her shirts, she grabbed four random t-shirts and four blouses. She had no idea what she was doing. "Don't give me that look." She pointed her finger at the orange and white cat who had made his home inside her suitcase. Grabbing some lingerie (just in case), she stuffed it in her suitcase and grabbed some other essentials. "There, that should be enough, don't you think?" With a nod, she moved her cat off of her suitcase and zipped it up with satisfaction.

Christine went to her kitchen to put some cat food, cat toys, and André's bed all in a bag. Humming along to her favorite Beatles song, she moved back into her room and changed into some leggings and a large sweater, hoping that the wind had died down by now. She hated the way her hair looked when the wind got caught in it. Soon, there was a soft knock at the door. With an excited step, she moved to her door, she opened the door only to be met by a bouquet of Lillie's and a very tall masked man behind them.

"Good morning, my kitten." Erik smiled widely, handing the bouquet to Christine. The student beamed up at the teacher, grabbing the flowers from him. "Are you ready?"

"Barely, you didn't give me much of a hint as to how to pack..." Christine trailed off as she looked for a vase to put her flowers in, humming again.

"Well, we're going to be indoors most of the time... You won't be dressing up or anything. I just thought girls were naturals at packing." Erik shrugged his shoulders as he bent down to pet André. "Well hello sir, are you ready for our trip?" The cat meowed in happiness.

"Well, I packed my whole closet. Let me go get my suitcase and André's bag-"

"No, let me." Erik smiled softly, swiftly moving past Christine's petite body. Soon, he emerged from her room with the purple suitcase. "Where is his bag?" Christine pointed to the couch with a timid blush arising to her cheeks.

"Tell me teacher, where are we going?" Christine purred as she moved her hands around his waist.

"That my kitten, is a surprise." Turning around, Erik put the bag around his shoulder with a smile. Bringing her chin up and a kiss to the top of her head, Erik smiled widely and looked over her shoulder at the crooning cat. "Let's go before your cat gets suspicious."

Christine, Erik, and André drove for about two hours until they hit a remote lake house, a beautiful wooden lake house whose balcony faced a clear, glassy and vast lake. Christine had never seen such a sight. The lake house had green shutters and the interior was decorated with gorgeous antique furniture. With a grandiose fireplace both on the first floor in the living room and in the master bedroom, Christine couldn't form words at the expansive lake house Erik took her to. The chandelier that hung above in the living room was made of Swarovski crystal, a phenom in itself. As they settled in, André found a bed for himself on the lavish couch near the fire that Erik immediately made on the first floor. The house was loft style, the stairs leading up to an open bedroom. Christine had no complaints.

"This place is so incredible, Erik..." Christine gasped in awe as she fell onto the bed. "How long have you had this house?"

"This was my first house, actually. I come here sometimes when I want to get away from the city. It helps me calm down, in a way." Erik put the bags in the closet, discarding his coat and sweater. "Do you like it?"

"I love it." Erik smiled widely as he walked towards the beaming girl, sitting at the edge of the bed. She reached her arms up, bringing Erik in for a tight embrace. She was so warm against his body. "You're perfect."

"Do you want to know a secret?" Erik mumbled, moving a stray curl from Christine's face.

"Always." Christine grinned, placing her tiny hands in his; they were minuscule compared to Erik's.

"You are the first woman I've brought to my lake house." If it was possible, Christine smiled even wider. Her eyes lit up as she jumped up, wrapping her arms around Erik's neck. Her strong legs snaked around his waist, gripping onto him with impeccable power.

"Erik." Christine rested her forehead on his, his mask cooling her heated skin. His hands mischievously landed on her bottom, holding her up as she made a strange noise once she felt his hands on her. "Erik!" Pressing her body further into him, she looked back at his hands, rolling her eyes.

"Christine, I-" Christine cut off the older man with the crash of her lips on his, not wanting to hear what he had to say. She didn't want to hear the m-word, or _her _name, or anything else! Christine just wanted to feel the warmth of his lips, the welcoming of his tongue, and the bond that held them together so tightly as she clung onto him with every bit of strength she had. "Christine, Christine..." Erik let Christine down gently onto her toes, the smooth skin of from the back his fingers meeting with her soft cheek.

"Yes?" He looked flustered, uneasy. His hand trailed down to her shoulder, down her arm, and into her hand. He was trembling. "Erik... What's wrong?" Christine looked up at him with her big green eyes.

"You're the first... I've never even brought Bailey here..." He began, fiddling with the hem of Christine's sweater. "She doesn't even know I have a lake house... A separate house..." Christine nodded slowly as he breathed heavily, his hands bringing the small student closer to him by the hips. "Christine, you know that I've never done anything with a student before... Before you came along, right?"

"That's what you've told me, yes." Christine tilted her head in confusion. "Erik, what's wrong? You're scaring me." Christine stepped away from the teacher, pulling her arms to her sides. "You're not making any sense right now."

"I mean, for Christ's sake... I'm sixteen years older than you and that's an unbelievable feat in its own way." Christine glanced at the front door, trying to calculate the distance from the bed to the door in her head. She was no math whiz. She figured if he kept going on about whatever he was talking about, staring at the floor in a daze like he was, she could escape with André no problem. With a slight exhale, Christine side stepped ever-so-gently. "I'm also your teacher, I mean... That's crazy. I've never looked at a student in a romantic way before you were a student of mine." Christine took another step, turning her body. Erik was still looking at the floor. Christine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. With one final step, she would be on the staircase. Slowly, but fully determined, she moved her foot only to pause mid-step, frozen in her skin, her bones petrified. "I just never thought I would fall in love with someone so much younger than me."

"W-What did you j-just say?" Christine turned around again to face her teacher, her eyes wider than he had ever seen. She was breathing heavily, her hands held up in hesitation.

"I said a lot of things." Erik stated, watching Christine approach him timidly. "Which part are you referring to?"

"You s-said that y-you didn't know t-that you f-fell in l-love..." Christine blankly stared at Erik's chest, her gaze glossy. Erik tried to figure out how she was able to not blink for so long. Lifting her tiny chin up with his hand, he met her quivering lips. He had never tasted lips so sweet before. He was in heaven. "E-Erik..." She breathed as they pulled apart, her eyes still closed shut. Christine was on her tip toes, her hands grasping onto his muscular forearms. "Do you mean it?"

"Every word." Christine slowly looked up at Erik, their eyes meeting in a venerated gaze. Erik brought his lips to hers once more, reassuring the girl that his word was true, reassuring her that his heart was hers to have, to hold, to keep, and to break. With a trembling exhale, Christine ran her fingertips down his cheek, making sure that this wasn't a dream, that this was indeed the perfect start to the perfect weekend, with the man in room 211.

"I love you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Fire and Ice**

**A/N: I'm sorry for the short chapter. I'm having internet problems & it's taken me about five times to try to upload this chapter! I'm sorry it's so short. Anyway, enjoy & I love you! **

* * *

"Okay, never ever have I ever cheated on an exam." Christine narrowed her eyes at the masked teacher sitting across from her. She was skeptical. With seven fingers left, she looked down at his long digits and shook her head with defeat; six fingers left to go. "Christine! Have you ever cheated on one of _my _exams?"

"Of course not, English is the easiest subject known to man. It's math that is the bane of my existence, Dr. Lantier." The green eyed beauty smiled devilishly at the teacher, sitting up to think of a clever, 'Never Ever, Have I ever.' Pondering on her innocence, she finally landed on an experience, she had not yet had the pleasure of experiencing. "Never ever have I ever had sex in a public restroom." Christine raised her eyebrows insistingly, making kissing noises towards the blushing man. Erik looked down at his eight fingers, shutting his eyes to avoid the awkward eye contact with Christine. Slowly, he lowered the seventh finger in shame, turning bright red, but he hoped that the glare of the blazing flames masked his furious blush.

"Let me explain myself, Christine." She couldn't help, but let out a giant laugh, a chortle. She covered her mouth with her hands, giving him an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, teacher... I just don't think there is much to explain. I think the fact that you put your finger down... Explained yourself pretty damn well." Christine outburst with laughter again. "It's okay, it's okay." She leaned over and placed a kiss on his porcelain mask, sitting back down on her bottom. "Let's play the question game. I want to get to know you."

"Was this game not sufficient for you?" Christine shook her head, scooting to close the gap between them.

"Are you ready, Dr. Lantier?"

"I don't know how to play the question game." Christine gave him a plain stare, her green eyes glaring through her thick lashes.

"I ask you questions and you answer them with one word answers, quick fire questions. Are you ready?" Erik nodded, taking in a deep breath.

"Show me what's in that bag of yours, kitten." With an excited giggle, Christine smiled and began her rapid questioning.

"What's your middle name?"

"Jerome."

"When's your birthday?"

"Four-Seventeen."

"Your favorite color?"

"Red."

"Guilty pleasure?"

"Nachos."

"Sexual fantasy?" Erik swallowed hard, blinking slowly at the grinning girl.

"That answer is much longer than one word."

"Fine." Christine thought for a moment. "Top or bottom?" Christine winked.

"Bottom." Erik winked right back at her. "These questions are getting awfully lewd."

"Lace or silk?"

"Lace."

"When did you lose your virginity?"

Erik paused. Christine grinned, repeating the question.

"17."

"Where were you?"

"Christine-"

"Where were you?" Erik's expression turned serious, his palms laying flat on the ground. He locked his jaw, his teeth tightly pressed against one another. He didn't want to answer her question, but he knew if he stalled any longer, she would begin to get suspicious.

"Home." Christine slightly tipped her head, trying to figure out what took him so longer to answer. With a shrug, she asked her final question.

"Would you ever consider getting married to _me_, instead of _her_?"

"Possibly." Christine internally jumped for joy, her heart skipping several beats. Erik smiled softly, grabbing her tiny hands, pressing a kiss to each palm. "My turn." She nodded affirmatively, bracing herself for the range of questions that could not possibly be predetermined.

"Hit me with your best shot, Lantier." Giving a wink, Erik was off to a slow start.

"What's your middle name?"

"Elissa."

"What's your favorite animal?"

"Giraffe."

"How old were you when you had your first kiss?"

"Twelve."

"Favorite movie?"

"Chicago."

"Top or bottom?" Christine rolled her eyes.

"You're just repeating my questions, you dumbass!" Christine folded her arms over chest, pouting like a child. Erik couldn't help, but let out a small laugh.

"Top or bottom?" He asked once more, his face turned serious - well as serious as he could be. With a defeated sigh, Christine answered with a blush.

"Bottom." Erik smiled widely.

"That's a problem, isn't it?" Erik paused to think of another question. "Batman or Superman?"

"Batman."

"Boy or girl?" Christine narrowed her eyes at his _extremely_ vague question.

"Erik, are you asking if I'm a boy or a girl, or are you asking if I want a boy or a girl for my first child?" Erik smiled again.

"The second one, the second option." Christine blushed even harder this time.

"Girl."

"Why did you choose me... Out of all the other professors?" Christine exhaled shakily, looking down at the embers that sparked from the bright flames. Silence fell over the two. Christine didn't have an answer for him, an answer he'd particularly enjoy hearing, at least. "Christine?"

"I... My answer requires more than one word, Erik." The thirty four year old breathed out, grabbing her tiny hands in his.

"I have time, all the time you need." Christine swallowed hard and moved her curls into a loose bun.

"When I registered for class, I looked through all of the available advanced English courses... I had gotten some letters from some professors, asking if I would be interested in taking their class, but none of them seemed to appeal to me... I stumbled upon your class and you didn't have a picture to go with your course description. It intrigued me." Christine's green eyes landed on the white mask. "All the other professors kept gloating and boasting about their degrees and accomplishments, I wasn't interested in how many languages they spoke or how many books they read in one summer. I came to learn and I wanted a professor that was there to teach."

"You picked me, because I was mysterious and faceless." Christine shrugged, her eyes averted to the blanket that draped over her. Her brow furrowed in thought as she mustered up the rest of her explanation. "There's more?"

"In your course description you had only one thing stated. You quoted Aristotle." Erik was taken aback, throughout surprise more so. He never _actually _thought that any of students _actually _read his course description. He figured that he got stuck with a bunch of business majors, trying to learn how to make a killer application essay, to the business graduate school of their choice. He stared at Christine in awe as she closed her eyes. With a deep breath, her plush lips parted and spoke softly the words like music to his ears.

_"Educating the mind without educating the heart, is no education at all." _

Christine barely finished quoting Aristotle before she found a pair of the warmest lips on her. Erik's hands were cupping her face as if he were holding the most precious of gold. He didn't know what it was that caused him to attack her like he was, but he didn't care, he _needed _her. Erik hastily removed the blanket that she covered herself with, laying Christine flat on the carpet. His hands wandered all over her body like he had never touched her before. She was breathing heavily, her hands in his hair as his lips attached to the hot flesh of her neck. She wasn't sure if it was her moans or his that were filling the room, but in a mixture of passion, he pulled off the flimsy tank top and devoured the extraordinary sight beneath him. He was sure his heart stopped beating. Wasting no time, he tugged off his own shirt and leaned down once again. The green eyes stared up at Erik, their hands gripping each other, holding on like it was their last seconds to live. The teacher moved his head down to his student's collar bone, brushing his lips against her skin, leaving feathery kisses down the crevice of her breasts. Her skin was burning. Looking up at the girl, Christine bit her lip in anticipation, nervousness, and desire. Erik noticed that his kitten was watching his every move, like a lioness out for her prey. With that knowledge and a grin, he hooked his fingers to the side of her underwear and slowly pulled them down, never breaking eye contact with his predator.

* * *

"Kitten, wake up... Kitten..." Christine groaned, turning over onto her stomach; like tutor, like student. "Christine, my dear, we have to start getting ready to leave. I have to pick Bailey up from the train station tonight and I can't be late." Christine groaned even louder at the mention of her name.

"Five more minutes, teacher..." Erik smiled down at the five foot three girl who was tangled in the sheets, her curls going every which way.

"If you wake up now, I'll make you chocolate chip pancakes..." Erik whispered in her ear. Christine could feel her goosebumps rising as Erik's lips brushed her skin, his presence soon leaving her. With one more whimper, she sat up and looked around for the masked man.

"_Oh, sainte médaille... Que me veint de man souer... Au jour de la bataille... Pour écarter la mort... Reste sur mon couer.._."

Christine smiled widely as she sat listening to Erik quietly sing in French, the sound of sizzling food in the background creating a nice ambiance. She stood to her feet, scanning the upper floor for her suitcase. Yawning loudly, she grabbed some clothes and quickly changed into them. She figured that she'll just shower when she got home. With a nod, she quickly packed the rest of her things and yawned again. Recalling last night's events, Christine began to blush. He was tender, he was loving. It felt like making love, though neither of them wanted to admit it. There was something about him that Drew Christine in, something beyond the mask and beyond the faceless course description. It was the way his hands moved in class when he was describing his favorite character in the current novel they were working on or the way his words fell so delicately from his tongue, it was as if they were crafted from velvet. Christine never thought of the age difference. Christine simply saw a man who was passionate about his work, who saw beauty in things that normally people who pass by and brush off as inconsequential. Christine saw a man who placed his heart fully into his teaching, never letting his mind get in the way.

"Miss Daaé, your breakfast has been served." Erik bowed jokingly at the bottom of the wooden staircase as he quickly jogged up to meet Christine at the top. She smiled softly, placing a kiss on his unmasked cheek.

"Ew, you're scratchy." She scrunched her face up, shaking her head at the sand paper feeling.

"You don't like my stubble?" She looked up at the towering man, smiling widely to no end.

"I like you, however you like you." Patting him on the chest, Christine made her way down the stairs, plopping herself down on the seat next to André. "Good morning, Monsieur. How are you today?" Nuzzling against his owner, the cat took a seat in happiness.

"Do you speak French?" Erik asked curiously as he brought down the luggage with ease. Christine shrugged her shoulders as she ravenously shoved a rather large piece of good into her mouth. "Do you have any other talents I don't know of, missy?"

"They wouldn't call them hidden talents if I showed them to you, would they?" Christine took a sip of her milk as her English professor leaned across the counter. "To answer your question though, I do speak French. I'm fluent in French. I am French, well my father was." Erik nodded, exhaling softly.

"What happened to your father?" Christine tensed, clutching her fork much too tightly. Erik could see Christine's breathing shallow, her face pull back in tightness as she pressed her jaw together in pressure. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"My father was a very bad man." She interjected, dropping her fork into her syrup covered plate. Her palm was red, engraved with ridges from the fork she held on with such force. "I'm glad that bastard is dead... Though... My step mom wasn't much better. She at least had _some_ decency to her. My father..." Christine glared up at Erik who was now standing tall. He was cautious of the girl, not knowing exactly what to expect. Her tiny hands were balled up into fists, her chest heaving up and down in deep breaths. Her eyes were glassy and her eyebrow was raised in antipathy. With a final exhale, she turned on her heel and excused herself from the table, not wanting to relive whatever horror she once bore.

"My father, may he rot in hell."

* * *

"Hello darling." Erik leaned down to kiss his fiancée, knowing that he didn't have to bend as far down as he would if he was kissing Christine. Bailey was about five foot seven. Placing a _loving_ kiss on her lips, he grabbed her two bags as they began walking to his car. "How was the convention?"

"It was wonderful! I learned so many new things!" Bailey stepped excitedly with her fiancé, going on about different ways to braid hair and something about ombré dye. Erik drowned out her blabbing, being not too fond of hair salon talk and the fifty new ways to braid someone's hair. "I even bought new equipment!" Erik halted immediately in his tracks.

"You did?" Bailey rolled her eyes, knowing that he was going to get mad. "How much did it cost, the equipment?"

"In the end it cost about four hundred, but Mindy paid for some of it. It could have been six hundred if she hadn't offered to pay-"

"_Bailey_." Erik seethed as he set her luggage abruptly in front of his car's trunk. "You spent four hundred dollars on equipment and you let Mindy pay two hundred dollars for the rest?" Erik had moved in closer to the blonde, who clearly wasn't listening. "_Bailey Sierra, _what did I tell you about spending money?" Erik was fuming. Bailey's eyes had gone to the floor as she fiddled with the zipper of her coat, she remained silent. Erik demanded to hear her explanation one last time. His patience was wearing thin, very thin.

"I just..." Bailey whispered. "I'm sorry... I really... Erik..." Her blue eyes met his, they were unbelievably wide. Erik suddenly stumbled backwards into the car, his breath taken straight from his lungs. He quickly rubbed his eyes, trying to get the image out of his head, the merging of his two worlds colliding, out of his head. Bailey's wide blue eyes staring up at him had morphed into impossibly big green eyes, her voice transforming into the innocent student, he was so deeply in love with, so disturbingly connected to. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes to find his fiancées hand on his cheek, his masked removed, and her coat above them. She was shielding the public from seeing his face... She was protecting him.

"B-Bailey..." He breathed out, his mouth dry and his exhales staggered. "I-I'm sorry I yelled at you... I'm s-so sorry..." Her body pressed against his as he brought it closely to warm her. He missed the feeling of her fit figure against him. They had been torn apart by the winds of their occupation, the wind of adultery and chance. The blue eyes of kindness searched Erik's mismatched eyes once again, blinking slowly in tempo somehow, with the beat of his heart.

"Don't be sorry, my love. Let me drive us home, you look exhausted." Bailey pressed a kiss to Erik's trembling lips, a kiss much needed. It was warm, it was passionate. It seemed to mend their hearts together, to rekindle the flame that once was lost. "Erik..."

"Yes, dear?" He was sincere, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

"I love you. I hope you know that."

He did. He loved her too, but he loved another. The pain that stroke him in the heart was so great that he began to sob into his fiancée, burying his face into her chest. He didn't care if anyone saw his scars, his infection, his disease! He gripped her waist, trying to hold onto what he had left to give her; it certainly wasn't much and it wasn't what she wanted, but she had no clue. He was being pulled into two separate directions. He was clueless, he was frightened. Erik tried to form words, but Bailey just held him, trying to console him. She had never seen him like this, so broken, so afraid. It made her wonder about what had conspired this weekend, what took place in his soul that made him so desperate for love, for forgiveness. He slowly emerged from his burrow, his mismatched eyes red with pain and desolation. Bailey ushered him to the front seat, making sure he was warm. Putting the bags in the trunk, she got into the front seat and started the car. She glanced over at Erik who sat stoically, facing the front. She exhaled deeply and turned towards the unmasked man.

"Erik, there is something I need to tell you." Erik blinked, turning to face the blonde woman. She was expressionless, just like him.

"What is it?" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Erik stayed still. The world stayed still. "You can tell me anything."_ No. Not this._

"I didn't go to a hair salon convention, these past four days." Erik's eyes widened, his head tilting in anger, confusion, and curiosity.

"Where the _hell_ did you go, then?" Who was _he_ to question _her_?

"Just please, you have to understand-"

"Understand _what_, Bailey?" Erik's voice shook the windows of the car. He leaned over the middle console, his face inches from hers. "You're trying my patience." He gritted through his teeth, making the blonde girl flinch backwards into the window. She winced at the sight of him. She shut her eyes tightly, her lips quivering as she spoke the words that he only _dreamt_ of hearing, but never actually _longed_ to hear.

"I can't marry you!"

* * *

**A/N: dun... dun... dun... and the love triangle continues... what shall Erik do? he tries my patience! he shall make his choice very soon... **

**read and review!**

**the French little song Erik sings is a little aria from Faust. I do not own it. I just copied it from some website. **

**thank you so much for continually supporting me through this stressful time with this move / my health. I love you all & I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Blankets and Broken Promises**

* * *

The rude awakening of Christine's cell phone going off at three something in the morning caused her to fall off her bed, hitting her funny bone on her bedside table.

"Hellooooooo..." She grumbled, holding her elbow in pain as it tingled harshly against her skin.

"C... C... Christine..." The person was crying, breathing heavily. "This is s-so pathetic..." The curly haired student sat against her bed, yawning greatly trying to figure out who would so _rudely _call at such an hour. "It's E-Erik... Professor Lantier, sweetheart." His voice was softer than usual, quiet and timid.

"Teacher?" Christine scratched her nose, squinting her eyes at the bright screen. "What are you doing awake? It's so early..." Erik laughed airily at her hoarse voice as he rubbed his eyes at his own tiredness. "Why are you crying? Is something wrong?"

"Bailey... We had a fight... I need a place to stay tonight... It's stupid, really... I... I just want to see you, Christine. Is that okay, sweetheart? I'll leave in a couple hours... I just really... Want to see you." Erik sighed at the pure feeble undertone his voice held.

"Sure, sure. I'll leave my key underneath the mat... Just come in and..." Christine starting dozing off at the sound of her teacher's velvety voice. Her steady breathing alerted Erik, almost making him laugh loudly at how pathetic this situation was.

"Christine, kitten, please wake up for me." Erik spoke a bit louder into the phone, but still Christine was still falling into a deep sleep. Erik took this chance to get a gym bag of some of his belongings together, the steady breathing of his student keeping him determined.

Bailey had left an hour before Erik called Christine. Where the blonde left to, Erik had only assumed she disappeared to Mindy's house. Yet again, just hours before Erik assumed that Bailey was in fact at a beauty convention and _not _to the place where she actually venture to. She could be anywhere at this point. Erik chose not to dwell upon his deceitful fiancée. He just wanted to see his Christine, his muse.

"Kitten, wake up before you ruin your back." Erik smiled at the sight as he entered the student's apartment. As she did not stir, he gathered her five foot three body easily into his arms and laid her gently on her bed. Discarding himself of his shoes, shirt, and sweatshirt, the teacher curled up next to the student.

"Took you long enough..." She mumbled, intertwining their legs.

"I had to make sure my house was locked, kitten." Erik sighed as he closed his eyes, taking in the darkness. "I'm sorry to have woken you, Christine."

"Don't be sorry..." Christine had slung her arm around his stomach, the warmth of his large body heating her own. "What happened between you and Bailey?" Erik sighed again, recalling the tragic turn of events.

* * *

_"I can't marry you!" Bailey shouted at Erik with tears streaming down her cheeks. The unmasked man sat back in his seat, completely speechless. Bailey shut her eyes not wanting to look Erik in the eyes any longer. "I'm sorry, Erik... I just don't think that I can marry you anymore." _

_"Bailey..." Erik barely croaked out of his clogged throat. "W-Why... W-What have I done... A-Are you that unhappy with me?" Bailey's heart broke into pieces as Erik reached for his mask that sat between them in the middle console. She knew what he was thinking. _

_"Erik, no... Don't put the mask on, please-" _

_"WHY NOT?!" Erik boomed through the tiny Subaru. The windows shook again as he gripped the white mask in his fingers. "It's my disease, isn't it?! It's my face, the scars, the infection! You just can't bear the thought of marrying someone ugly-" Bailey's palm had made contact with his cheek. Thankfully, she was left handed and she didn't strike his marred cheek. The slap was weak, but her eyes burned into him as her chest heaved with anger. _

_"How dare you, Erik! Poor, Erik! Would you like some pity with your cheese and wine?!" Bailey shouted back at the silent man. "Erik, I can't marry you and don't think it's because of the scars the accident left you. It didn't bother me the first time I met you and it certainly doesn't bother me now!" _

_"Pray tell then, why can't you marry me?" Erik seethed through his clenched jaw at the blonde beauty. "Is it my long hours at work? I can... Cut them down, somehow..." Erik immediately thought of Christine; his two worlds were colliding at light speed and there was nothing he could possibly do to stop it. _

_"It's not work, it's not anything that has to do with you... It's just something that I have to do, for me." Erik rolled his eyes. If this was a movie, Bailey would be breaking out into song right about now. "It's not a great time for me to be getting married right now." Erik huffed. _

_"You still haven't told me why you don't want to marry me!" Erik pounded his fist into the dash board, denting it pretty good. He had no idea he was that strong. _

_"Let me just drive you home, Erik... We can talk about this later, please..." The teacher remained silent, allowing the blonde to do as she pleased - apparently, in more areas than one. _

_As soon as Bailey pulled into the driveway, Erik paused and turned towards his fiancée. He had put his mask back on, only to be pestered by Bailey. If it wasn't his hideous face that deterred her, repulsed her, and overall decided for her that this marriage was not worth going through with, Erik hadn't had the slightest of clues as to what would make her want to call of her dream cliff side wedding. While inside the house, Bailey remained quiet as Erik carried her luggage to the bedroom. He didn't know what to do, what to say, or where to start. She didn't give him an answer and he didn't believe that there was going to be an answer coming his way anytime soon. _

_"I'll find a place to stay tonight." Erik spoke flatly to the blonde as she began to unpack her suitcase. Erik stood in the corner, somewhere in the shadows of the bedroom. He had no intention of being near her at the moment. _

_"Stay here, Erik. This is your house, too." Bailey turned towards the corner, sighing to herself. She wished that he would stop being melodramatic. _

_"I don't wish to stay under a roof where I'm not welcome." Bailey rubbed her temples, turning back to her suitcase. "If we're no longer getting married, then I'm no longer welcome wherever you are." Erik's tone was cold, harsh. Suddenly, his eyes shot towards the net of the suitcase. A pink box laid hidden behind some running shoes and some other clothing. Erik narrowed his eyebrows towards the box, finally realizing what it was. "Pregnant..." He exhaled in disbelief. _

_"What?" Bailey paused her folding to watch the masked man emerge from the shadows. He was furious. "Erik, what's wro-" Before she could finish her sentence, he had grabbed the box and thrown the contents onto the bed. It was already opened and there were two sticks missing. He may wear a mask, but his eyesight was always better than perfect. Something Bailey always bragged about to her friends. _

_"What are you doing with pregnancy tests, Bailey?" Erik demanded of the wide eyed blonde as she stood frozen before him. She needed an answer quickly, but her throat closed up on her and her mouth went completely dry. _

_"I..." She choked out, looking down at the now-empty box. The strewn about contents taunting her every time she glanced down for a millisecond, taking her gaze off of the fervent man in front of her. _

_"Answer me!" He pointed to the box and its spilled contents, his eyes never leaving hers. "What the fuck are you doing with pregnancy tests and why are two of them missing?!" She was breathing at a rapid pace now, her eyes darting from the tests to his mismatched irises. "Bailey Sierra LaFavre, I hope you know that it is impossible for me, your FIANCÉ, to be the father of that child seeing that we never make love..." Erik murmured under his breath, trying to control his temper. He didn't want to break anything tonight. "Just tell me why the fuck two of them are missing." _

_"I took two of the pregnancy tests, to make sure..." Bailey had started crying as Erik's eyes bore into hers. "To make sure that it wasn't a false positive..." She finally murmured, shutting her eyes tightly, avoiding the hurt that was to come from the man she was supposed to give her life to. _

_"Are... You... Pregnant..." Erik was aghast as he vomited the words out, the taste of the question vile and putrid. Bailey softly nodded, the tears continually following. _

_"I met him at a Zumba class."_

* * *

Christine woke up early the next morning, wanting to make Erik feel special after his truly awful evening. Her stomach churned as she laid there listening to her teacher's story. She didn't know why she felt so horrible about it. This is what she wanted. She wanted Erik all to herself and now she had him. Oh, but not _this _way. She didn't want Bailey to cheat on him and get pregnant. No, that was too shameful, too unkind. Christine could hardly believe the words that came out of _her _mouth when she spoke to Erik. Christine was confused. Christine didn't know if she was supposed to be happy or if she was supposed to be sick to her stomach for the current predicament. Christine just wanted Erik to be happy, yes that is what she truly wants.

"Would you like coffee or tea with your pancakes?" Christine placed a kiss on Erik's uncovered cheek, walking towards the coffee maker.

"I want..." Erik not-so-subtly eyed Christine as she stood with her back to her teacher.

Her sleeping shirt fell just beneath her bottom and when she rose to her tip toes to grab a mug from the cupboard above, her black lace panties would show. A sight that would make any man go mad.

"Coffee, yeah coffee for me is fine." Erik finally snapped out of his trance as she started the coffee maker. Her curls fell loosely down her back as she smiled softly towards the teacher. Erik noticed that she rose to her toes a lot with ease, her taut thighs teasing him and distracting him from his pancakes.

"Did you sleep okay last night? You were tossing and turning a lot, Dr. Lantier." Christine handed Erik the cup of coffee, knowing that he liked it black.

"I slept fine. I'm sorry if I bothered you with my tossing and turning, sweetheart." His voice was kind, sweet like he was apologizing for stealing a teddy bear.

As André meowed happily while Christine fed him a piece of left over pancake from her plate, Erik sighed at his dismal outcome of events. "Do you have any classes today?"

"I have one tonight at eight, but I'm yours until then. Aren't you teaching today?" Christine grabbed her teacher's empty plate, placing it in the sink.

"I called in sick yesterday. I didn't feel much like teaching." André nuzzled against Erik's arm, staring up at the masked man with round black eyes. "What class do you have tonight?" Christine bit her lip, walking slowly towards her teacher.

"It's not at the school, it's a hobby, you could say, of mine." Erik tilted his head at the curly headed girl as she stood in between his legs. Her hands found his hair, her glasses falling loosely on the bridge of her nose. "It keeps me out of trouble."

"What is the hobby you speak of?" Erik rested his hands on her hips, enjoying the rekindled feeling her body against his.

With a wink, Christine shrugged her shoulders and leaned into her teacher, attaching her lips to his in a passionate movement of affection. Erik moaned loudly, something he almost never did while they kissed. Christine smiled widely as she pressed her palms onto his thighs as he sat on the barstool. The kiss had grown more fervent, more needy as Erik brought one hand to the small of her back, the other to cup her face. Their tongues danced in a furious dance of ecstasy, the taste of each other lingering on every inch they could reach. Erik couldn't take it anymore. Scooping up Christine's tiny body, Erik grinned as he walked towards her bedroom, the eyes of his student never leaving him. As he set her down on the bed, she breathed happily, bringing the six foot four man on top of her.

"I'm a ballet dancer, that's my hobby." Christine whispered against his jaw. Erik's hands found her thighs, running his baby soft smooth palms anywhere he could feel the warmth emanating off of them.

"Is that how you got so fit?" Christine let out a gentle laugh as Erik pulled the sleeping shirt off her body. He sat on his knees, reveling in her beauty as she blushed immediately at his wandering eyes.

"I've been dancing ever since I could remember..." She breathed out a shaky exhale. Her eyes dutifully followed Erik's index finger as it traced a trail down her uncovered chest and torso. "Sometimes..."

Erik brought his thumb over her hardened areoles. Christine breathing hitched.

"Continue your story, please..." Erik cooed as he cupped her breasts, kneading them, making Christine bite her lip.

"Sometimes, that's..." Erik started to pull down her lace underwear, stopping when Christine stopped talking. He waited until she began once more. "Sometimes, my ballet lessons as a g-girl..." The lace panties were almost down to her knees, the cool air hitting her sex. She took a sharp breath, shutting her eyes. "They're all I r-remember..." Erik nodded, pulling off the underwear completely, leaning over the girl. Placing a kiss on her forehead, he nuzzled his face into her heated neck. With one last kiss to her neck, Erik's hand wandered to the place where _she_ needed _him_ the most and the place where _he_ desired _her_ the greatest.

"Well, my kitten, I say we make you some new memories."

* * *

"Final exams are coming up fast and I would very much like to see good grades this semester. We all know how those quarter grades looked and we most certainly _do not _want a repeat." Erik immediately centered his attention towards de Chagny, who wasn't paying attention. "As I was saying, finals are in about three weeks and I really would love it if you, yes you de Chagny, aced your final."

"What are you picking on me for, Mr. Lightbulb?" Erik narrowed his eyes at the student, confused at the nickname.

"_Mr. Lightbulb_?" Erik asked, leaning against his desk.

"Uh, yeah. I can't pronounce your last name, so I gave you a new one." Christine couldn't help, but giggle. "Hey, Curly! Why don't you shut the fuck up and suck it?!" Raoul had thrown yet another middle finger up in the air. Christine looked disinterested as she rolled her eyes at de Chagny's childish comeback.

"Raoul de Chagny! There will be _absolutely _no cursing in my classroom and what did I tell you about flipping off people?" The class fell silent as Erik's voice bellowed through the lecture hall. Christine had heard him yell before, but not like this. Raoul sank in his seat, embarrassed of his actions. "I'm going to give you one last chance. Don't try my patience, de Chagny, you're walking on thin ice."

To Raoul's advantage, Erik's alarm went off and the class stampeded out of the classroom. Lingering after the class let out, Christine made her way to the desk.

"Dr. Lantier?" She spoke gently to Erik whose back was turned to her. He was leaning over, but Christine couldn't see what he was doing. "Erik?"

"Christine..." He grumbled. "Please wait outside for me, I'll be out in a second." He sounded like he was in pain. Christine grew worried and antsy as she remained in her spot. "Christine, go outside now." Erik demanded with his back still turned away from her.

"Erik, you sound like you're in pain... Let me help you. Do you want me to call you a-"

"No, goddamnit! Just get the hell out of my classroom!" His voice echoed throughout the hall, ricocheting off the walls, permeating her body down to her bones. Christine flinched backwards, stumbling into the desks. Grabbing her bag, she quickly headed for the door, her heart racing faster than ever. "Wait." Christine was almost out into the hallway before she heard Erik's heart-shattering voice beckon to her. This time, it was broken, coarse and shaken. "Turn the lights off, Christine." The student hesitantly walked back into the classroom, turning the lights off as she ventured to his desk. She couldn't refuse him, ever.

"Erik, I didn't mean to make you angry or suggest that you couldn't take care of yourself. I'm just trying to help you." Christine stated as she looked upon the hunched over man.

"I know." He simply replied, his posture finally straightening out, his bones cracking in his back. "Do you ever wonder about what lies behind the mask, Christine?" Erik's voice had changed exponentially. It had grown deeper, mystical, enchanting. Christine was almost put under a deep spell as soon as he spoke those words.

"I never wonder, because you never gave me a reason to wonder." Christine finally replied as she meticulously watched Erik move in a completely different manner. His hands were twitching, but majestically; it was unlike anything she had ever seen. "You never told me to worry or gave me any reason to question what lies behind your mask. You never question what lies behind all of my curls." Erik let out a masculine chuckle, if that was even possible. He turned slightly, the profile of his unscarred face silhouetted by the light that streamed in of the now dark lecture hall. He had a sharp jaw line.

"Are you afraid of what lies behind it, the mask? Do you fear ugliness? Does thinking of a face so repulsive, so gruesome make your stomach tie into knots and your throat catch on itself?" Christine shrugged, not comprehending his enigmatic statements.

"We're all born with scars, Erik." The teacher closed his eyes, the burning that caused him to tear off his mask in the first place, returning all at once. It was so great, so vile, that it ached to have the mask on for more than ten minutes. He knew there was something wrong, but he hated doctors and he hated his face. He wished that he could be beautiful and handsome; the things that the mask could provide him. Standing to his feet, he turned on his heel to tower over the curly headed girl.

Her eyes immediately found his scathed face, darting around to taking in every detail there was to her teacher. It was leathery, stretched and even black in some areas. As it was stretched it some areas, mainly his nonexistent cheekbone, it was soft in other areas like his jaw and next to his mouth. Christine thought to herself as she examined him. There had been a fire of some sort. The skin was red, bright red from irritation. It look like there were hives beginning to rise on his cheek. That's why he was so irritable in class, his mask was rubbing against his already risen flesh. The tissue of his skull was showing and truly, Christine didn't know how he wasn't dead. She didn't question it, though. There was no eyebrow and there were many indentations of scars. His lips were swollen, which never had bothered her before. As she looked around the yellowed skin, she finally stopped on his nasal cavity. It was completely gone. There was simply a hole. She glanced down at the desk and saw a prosthetic nose. Finally, she put the puzzle together in her head.

"There was a fire, that was the accident." Christine finally spoke. Erik nodded, truly bewildered by the fact that she wasn't repulsed at his abhorrent face.

"I was born without an eyebrow, the scars near my ear. The fire took away the forehead, cheek bone, and cartilage in my nose. My lips though, have you never been bothered by them?" She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.

"We all come with flaws. It's in the imperfection where true beauty is found." Christine took a deep breath. "Tell me about the fire." She took a seat on the desk, ushering for Erik to take a seat in his teacher's chair.

"I don't remember much of it, honestly. We were rehearsing for an opera and the chandelier was supposed to dramatically 'fall' onto the stage. Something went wrong and it actually fell, starting a fire that just kept growing. I was down in the pit conducting and I... Don't remember anything else. I woke up in a hospital some odd weeks later with this for a face." Erik began piecing together his, 'normal,' look again, only to be stopped by a small hand.

"Don't, I want to keep looking at you." Erik paused, furrowing his brow at the student. "What happened after you woke up in the hospital?" Christine grabbed the white mask, examining it André examining a new scratching post.

"I spent a year in the hospital trying to get a somewhat normal face back, but this was the best they could do. They told me that some of the chandelier pieces got in my head and the fire burned most of my skin off and, just... Pretty disgusting things, Christine. Strangely enough, my nose was violently cut off by a cymbal." Erik let out a shaky laugh. "I spent six months to the next year trying to rehabilitate myself. After I was healed, it was about two and a half years after the accident... I got my teaching credential and I moved here to California. I met Bailey and got a job teaching here." Christine nodded, trying to take in the teacher's story. With a deep breath, Christine rose to her feet and held out her hand.

"Come with me, Erik." He tilted his head in confusion as he rose to his feet.

"Where are we going, Miss Daaé?" Christine smiled widely, handing Erik back his mask. Grabbing her backpack, she turned on her heel and made a beeline for the door, only to turn around once again to face the one man she knew would keep her darkest secrets.

"Like I said, Professor Lantier, we all have our scars."

* * *

**A/N: **

**it's 2:45am & I'm so tired. I'm getting a tattoo tomorrow! MY FIRST! AH. ok. anyway goodnight! I'm sorry for the shortish (?) chapter. **

**thank you for continually reading & hopefully reviewing. I do read all of the reviews & I do take them in stride, making sure I add whatever notes you give me to help make this Phanfic better! I love getting reviews. it makes me feel all special inside. You're all wonderful. I love you all. **

**Goodnight. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Disenchanted**

**A sad chapter for a sad day.**

_'It was a lie when they smiled and said,_

_"You won't feel a thing."'_

* * *

She was silent they whole car ride over to the mystery destination. Her eyes focused on the road ahead, not even flinching when her teacher rested his warm palm on her thigh. The air conditioning created a cold circulation of air, permeating the frosty November air; a rare evening in California where it was chilly and not blazing hot. Erik had not the slightest of clues as to where his curly haired mistress was driving to, he didn't even know the route. It was surrounded by trees, far away from the main campus. Christine drove in the complete opposite direction of her apartment, but Erik asked no questions, just like Christine asked none to him.

"We're here." She finally inferred, unbuckling her seat belt. She took a deep breath, looking outside her window. It was dark and leafy, unfamiliar to the thirty four year old teacher. "I have a sweatshirt that will fit you in my trunk. It's cold out there, Erik." She turned to face the teacher, a tender smile appearing on her pale face.

"Thank you, kitten." Christine got out of her black Jeep, immediately feeling a surge of the frigidity to her bones. Opening the trunk of her car, she grabbed the thick North Face sweatshirt and handed it to Erik, grabbing the black pea coat for herself. Wrapping her tiny five foot three body in her pea coat, she grabbed his colossal hand in her tiny one, they began walking through what seemed like a forest; through Erik's eyes it was as if Narnia was coming alive beneath his feet.

"I'm sorry about Bailey, you deserve much better." The curly headed girl spoke out with a chattering in her teeth as they trucked through the forest. Erik snaked his arm around the dancer's waist, pulling her closely to his body. "I'm not much better than she is, but I know for a fact that you're not going to get me pregnant." Erik cringed awfully at the thought of Christine getting pregnant.

"Christine, please... Don't talk about Bailey right now. It's very uncomfortable for me." Christine nodded. "Where are you taking me, anyway?" Christine pulled out her phone, halting in her tracks. "Kitten?" She fiddled with her phone, trying to press the screen with her frozen fingers. Finally, the flash light came on and the illuminated scene impaled Erik so deeply that he stumbled backwards onto Christine's miniature figure.

"This is my home, this is where I grew up until I was about... twelve. It's where I lived until my dad died and my step mom took me in, housed me. She wasn't much of a mother, but at least she had a house. This... This piece of shit can't even be passed as an outhouse." Christine trembled nervously, laughing airily as she tried to mask her apparent pain. "I immersed myself in books and learning, never math though. I never got the hang of math, other than that though... That's how I distracted myself from my step mom, indecent way of living. I got into the university and the only contact I had with her now, is she pays my bills and sends me a birthday check every year. Other than that, she never talked me once. I raised myself while she, raised... her hormones." Erik was in shock, his body tensed beneath the North Face sweatshirt. He couldn't believe the words Christine she saying, the tiny shack that was displayed in front of him, and the girl that was standing beside him. Her past and present made his face, his infection, seem so insignificant.

"How did he die, Christine?" The girl shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know."

"How do you not know how he died, Christine?" Erik was sounding like a parent, a condescending, authoritative parent. He hated the tone he had, he hated himself. Christine looked up at him with unbelievably wide eyes, trying to decipher his patronizing accusations.

"I don't fucking know, because it happened so fucking fast! It happened so fast! He was there and then he was there... I woke up and he wasn't breathing... I don't remember, okay?! Just get the fuck away from me!" Christine pushed the teacher away from her with great force as she trudged through the foliage, trying to make her way back to her Jeep.

"CHRISTINE!" Erik cried out, trying to follow the light of the flashlight. It was frigid and the cool air was causing him to squint. The petite ballerina was darting in and out between trees, the flashlight turning on off, Christine desperately attempting to lose the light. "CHRISTINE, COME BACK HERE!"

"Just leave me, Erik! You're just like all the rest of them!" She shouted back, her teeth freezing at the contact with the crisp air. The teacher, being much taller than his student, had finally caught up to her. Christine's nose was bright red, her cheeks a matching color. She was shivering and panting, too cold to cry over the unfortunate memories Erik had spawned onto her.

"Christine... I'm sorry..." Erik mumbled as his toes began to feel numb. He didn't care. "Please, let's just get back into the car where it's warm. I'll drive us back to your apartment and we can just have a nice dinner, okay? Would you like to do that, sweetheart?" Erik's usual masculine demeanor and deep voice had turned kind, gentle, and comforting. His frosted fingers caressed Christine's just as frosted cheeks, trying to console her.

"He did bad things to me, Erik," She began with her eyes averted to the ground. Slowly, her green irises met with Erik's mismatched pupils. In one glance, she held all the sadness in the world. "I don't know whether to be happy that he's dead or to be sad, because I wasn't the one that killed him."

* * *

"Next week is your first semester final! How exciting is that?" Apparently, it _wasn't _that exciting, according to all the groaning that was emitted from Erik's student's mouths in a harmonious tune. "Now, I have been arduously writing the Advanced English final, while also trying to work on perfecting my Music Theory final. I can proudly say that your English final, is _much _easier." Erik smiled widely, obnoxiously as he tried to gain a few laughs.

"Professor Lantier?" Ms. Cooper raised her hand up in excitement, her grin taking up the majority of her face.

"Ms. Quinn Cooper, how can I be of assistance?" Erik grabbed a tiny plush basketball off of his desk, throwing it slightly up in the air, catching it with ease. Christine blushed, involuntarily. Erik _definitely _noticed.

"Will you be available for after class tutoring to prepare for the final?" Erik's posture stiffened almost simultaneously with Christine's. Squeezing the ball in his left hand tightly, he took a deep breath.

"I have provided you guys with another study guide that should be sufficient for your studying needs. It will be available to pick up on your way out today, at your own discretion. May I remind you that your final is on all the material covered this semester and anything I have stated in class is fair game." Erik relaxed as Ms. Cooper frowned. "Did I miss anything?"

"Yeah, uh, hey, Mr. Lantern!" Raoul de Chagny scratched his neck awkwardly as he glanced at Ms. Cooper, who still was frowning. .'

"_Lantier_, my last name is Lantier." Erik corrected him. "Say it with me class, 'Lan-Tee-Aye.' It's French, get cultured." de Chagny shrugged. "What can I help you with, buddy?"

"Are you curving this final?" He was so hopeful.

"Not a chance." Now, there were two frowning blondes. "You put in the time and there will be no crime." Erik's phone alarm went off and soon, the classroom was empty. To his dismay, Christine had history class and needed to get to class. They were going to meet for dinner, anyway. Erik bent down to retrieve some uncorrected essays in his draw, only to look up and be met with Ms. Cooper's beaming brown eyes. "Ms. Cooper, you're back, hello." Erik smiled politely as he placed a stack of papers on his desk.

"Hiya, Professor _Lan-Tee-Aye._" Erik let out a soft laugh as she pressed her books to her chest. She was about five foot five, she had a lot of freckles. "I always thought it was pronounced, 'Lan-Tear,' like a tier of a cake." Erik tilted his head. "I'm majoring in culinary arts." With an understanding nod of his head, Ms. Cooper took a seat on the desk in front of him. "Anyway... Back to my question about after schooling tutoring, Professor Lantier... I really would benefit with just a session or two, with your help. I'd be willing to pay you for your tutoring, Professor Lantier."

Erik couldn't help, but feel his heart swell at the innocent sound of her voice. Truly. the last time he took the time to sit down and work with her on her essay writing, she improved greatly. He noticed that she had trouble formulating proper sentences, probably the resulting of someone speaking _improperly _at home. Erik was cautious though, because of Christine, of course. Christine had told Erik that Ms. Quinn Cooper had a reputation of being flirty with her professors, the batting of her lashes becoming a signature look for Ms. Cooper. Erik certainly wanted to heed Christine's warning.

"Although your offering to pay me is most generous Ms. Cooper, I wouldn't be able to accept any sort of cash or check payment. I'd be happy to meet with you this week for an hour or two to brush up on your essay writing, if you want. It benefited you greatly during the midterm, so I'm sure it'll help increasingly well with the final. I am quite busy this week, because of my music theory class, but if you are certain about this tutoring session, I will make time for you." Ms. Cooper grinned from ear to ear. Erik hadn't noticed how close she had gotten to his body. They were now standing inches apart from one another.

"Erik." She spoke through her gloss covered lips.

"H-How do you know my f-first name?" Erik froze beneath his vest and white silk tie. "I don't t-think I've ever s-said in class b-before..." Erik tried to think back on any time that Christine might have slipped up and called him by his first name, but no specific event was coming to mind. He never relayed his personal information to his class, besides the fact that they should _never _ask about his mask or touch it.

* * *

_Erik gulped down the remaining of his Venti drink. He hated Starbucks, but he was desperate for caffeine. Bailey had left for work already, something about an audition and that there was an emergency hair dyeing that need to be done. Erik wasn't nervous to start a new semester, no. He was nervous to get the wide-eyed stares and to hear the mouse-like whispers surrounding him. Usually by the upperclassmen college level, the students had matured out of pointing and laughing, but staring and whispering was always a crowd favorite. Erik always felt like some circus freak on display on the first day of school. As the wave of new students rushed in, he always started class with his back to the class, writing against the white board, his name in calligraphic handwriting - a talent he always possessed. Soon the bell of his phone would ring and he would take a deep breath, repeating a quiet prayer in French to himself. Turning around, he would brace himself always hope for the best, but expect the worst _

_'Hello class, my name is Professor Lantier.' Erik smiled gently as he waved timidly to the sea of dilated eyes. 'I am the Advanced English Language professor. You may be a bit confused by the class title. This is not a class in which I teach you about the English language, this is a class in which I teach you how to use the English language.' Erik received more blank stares. 'I hope that I can all help you excel to the goals you set for yourselves. I will only assist you as far as you dare to go. As this is an elective course, each and every one of you chose to be here. I will have an in-class essay exam every two weeks that tests your quality and a standard multiple choice test that is in concordance with whichever book we are assessing, to test your quantity. If you are confused by what I am telling you, allow me to elaborate.' The students shifted in their desks, taking out their laptops and notebooks. Erik noticed a particularly beautiful girl in the back row. She looked terribly young to be in his class. He made a note to check the roll sheet later. _

_'A quality essay exam will test how well you can write, how you structure a story/essay, and if you can summarize all of your thoughts into however many paragraphs I allow you to write. Now, a quality exam test will be graded more harshly than a quantity standard exam. A quantity standard exam is your regular, run of the mill, multiple choice or fill in the black test. I will never and I mean it, never put a short answer question on a standard exam. I find it repetitious and mundane. My friends, my friends, learn this now... This class will be anything, but repetitious and mundane.' Erik smiled again, trying to look as friendly as possible. He earned some laughs, which meant his students were becoming more casual and comfortable. Suddenly, a hand shot in the air. 'Yes, ma'am?' _

_'Um...' She began with squinted hazel eyes. She looked as though she was staring at something behind Erik. 'I... I was just wondering... What's on your face?' Erik's face paled, his heart sinking to his stomach. Up until then, he thought he was doing pretty well. He sighed to himself, cursing in nine different languages. He noticed that his dress shoes needed to be polished. As he raised his head to meet the hazel eyes who looked guilty more than ever now, he gave an amiable smile. _

_'It's a mask, my dear.' Erik tapped it lightly with his finger. 'It's made of porcelain. It's very fancy, I have to have them specially made for me.' The students nodded along with the teacher's story, the young girl in the back row looking especially intrigued. 'I was born with a birth defect, nothing too major. Unfortunately, I was in an accident almost six years ago. It made my condition worse and I have now been forced to wear a mask everywhere I go. I hope you all don't mind.' Erik was sincere. He really hoped that they didn't mind. _

_'Why do you have to wear a mask? What's underneath it that is so bad?' The girl tilted her head. Suddenly, Erik thought of something brilliant, something novel. He straightened his posture and scanned the room. _

_'Have any of you read any Gaston Leroux?' Every single student shook their head. Erik huffed in disappointment. 'Okay, well have any of you seen the Joel Schumacher film adaption of, 'The Phantom of The Opera?' It's a musical about a virtuoso, musical genius really, who lives in the cellars of the Paris opera house in the 1800s. I don't want to give a lot of the plot away, but he is disfigured from birth and shunned from society, hence the lair underneath the opera house. He creates masks to wear to hide his deformity and thus takes on the role of the Opera Ghost.' Erik earned a few skeptical glares, mostly confusion. The curly haired girl in the back row was amused, intrigued by her professor's story. 'I have taken the role of Professor Lantier, your English teacher for the next nine months. I am simply a man, a teacher - your teacher.__'_

* * *

Christine cuddled against the couch, scooping her cat onto her lap. She was waiting for Erik to finish making his tea.

"I must say, your English final is going to be a piece of cake." Christine mused from underneath her giant blanket. Erik scoffed at her pride.

"Why do you say that? I think it's going to be rather difficult, if you ask me." Erik stirred some honey into his tea, looking at the bundled sight.

"Well, I didn't ask you, did I?" Erik went up to touch his mask, but it wasn't there. He had forgotten that Christine removed it when he arrived in her apartment. She wanted to look at it more, apply some TLC to his irritated skin. "Erik, I'm sorry about two days ago in the forest. I didn't mean to yell at you." The room fell silent. Erik breathed out all the air he was holding in his lungs, walking over to the couch with his tea.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, kitten. You showed me something that was very difficult for you and I was a jerk about it. I should be the one apologizing to you." Christine placed a kiss on his knuckles, leaning back into the couch. "That house barely had a bedroom, Christine. How did you stay there for that long?" Christine paused, shrugging her shoulders.

"I was chained." Erik froze in his seat, the seething liquid protruding the caverns of his throat. He couldn't seem to keep the tea down as he ran into the bathroom, regurgitating it up like a dog. When the _unmasked _man returned, she was sobbing, hyperventilating into the blanket. She was mumbling something, but he couldn't understand her. He didn't want to understand her. With one swift movement, he had her in his arms, rocking her back and forth. Erik wanted to weep with her, but he knew that one of them had to remain calm, as calm as calm could be. "I-I wake u-up with n-nightmares a-all t-the time..."

"Shhh, Christine, don't talk about it anymore. I'm here, just rest... I'm here, sweetheart." Erik cooed as she curled into his body, her legs drawn to her chest like a child. She was shaking.

"He a-always told m-me, 'You won't feel a thing, you won't feel a thing,' and he was r-right..." Erik suddenly stopped rocking, bringing her chin up to meet her red eyes, stained with tears and an unbearable sadness.

"What do you mean, Christine?" Erik's voice was terse, his eyes piercing hers. "What do you mean _you didn't feel a thing?_" Christine drew back a deep breath.

"I was drugged most of the time when he did things, it was only until I woke up that I would feel the pain of whatever he did to me." She had stopped crying, her voice coarse and unrefined. "I don't remember much, honestly... I just remember always being scared of him, always wanting to hide." Erik shut his eyes, trying to block out the horrific images in his head. The problems he was having with Bailey were _insignificant _to what Christine has to go through each night. He thanked God that Christine was still alive. With a kiss to her forehead, he brought her body to his and hugged her tightly, encapsulating her tiny figure into his.

"Christine, no one will ever harm you ever again, sweetheart. I'm going to protect you, I'm going to guard you with my life." Erik's expression had changed to deathly serious, grave. His tone was deep and his eyes were like heat in Christine's skin. Christine didn't mind one bit.

"Do you promise that, teacher?" Her voice was quiet, frightened. Erik smiled sweetly, bringing her fingers to his lips. Placing a gentle kiss to her palm, he said a prayer in French, something they both understood.

"Always, kitten." He was pleading, begging for her to understand, but her eyes said something different. They were threatened, yet adored at the same time. She loved the man that coddled her, that gave her the world, yet she knew that he would be gone soon - she couldn't get attached, no.

She was trained and conditioned to not feel a thing.

* * *

**A/N: wow! I am very sorry for such a late update. I packed for four hours last night and then got my lazy ass up this morning at 6am! My aunt and I drove for seven hours from California to Phoenix. tomorrow, we have an eight hour drive I believe. I am going to try to update as much as possible on this trip. I am sorry if they come in later than usual or if the chapters are a bit short. Wi-fi is precious and I don't always have it. **

**Anyway, enjoy this sad chapter. I am very sad, because I had to say goodbye to many of my best friends. I hate goodbyes and since I don't know if my family is moving to Florida or not, I may not see them for a very long time! ): I miss my dog the most though. I started crying when I said goodbye to him last night. His name is Carl and he's my little taquito. **

**ok, well, I must go and update my other current Phanfic: DIAL TONES  
before my wifi runs out, so toodooloo and I hope you read & hopefully review! **

**I love you all!**

**ROLL TIDE.**


	9. Chapter 9

**This Love**

**A/N: I have finally moved into my dorm and I have finally settled down into my room. I am so sorry that I have taken so long to update. Who knew that driving from California to Alabama would leave absolutely no time to update? Anyway, here is the long awaited update. I hope you enjoy as I hope you also forgive me for the delay. **

* * *

Erik sighed in relief as he turned the key of his sanctuary, locking the door to the classroom of his music theory class. It was finally Friday after a long day of reviewing for finals the following week. Turning the corner of the long hallway, he was thoroughly surprised to see what awaited him at the elevator doors.

"Bailey, what are you doing here?" Erik was more confused, than surprised. "Shouldn't you be with dancer boy?" Erik pressed the elevator button, watching the blonde carefully.

"I came to ask you to lunch." Erik peered down at her hand which still fashioned his engagement ring. "I would have called, but I dropped my phone and the screen shattered. Hair stylists don't make much money, you know." Erik held the large metal doors open for her as she kindly thanked him, entering the elevator.

"Bailey, I can buy you a new phone." She shrugged. "You can always sell the ring, if you're short some money." Erik pointed to the engagement ring with his pinkie finger, which also fashioned his class ring.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually... Erik, you have to believe me when I say it was a complete accident." Erik rolled his eyes at the blonde as the elevator dinged. The doors opened into the foyer of the music building. He reluctantly gestured for her to walk ahead of him. "It wasn't supposed to end up like this, me being pregnant..." Erik froze in his tracks, turning towards the blonde. His blood was boiling.

"It _wasn't _supposed to end up like _this_?" Erik actually laughed at how stupid that statement sounded. "You're right, Bailey. It wasn't. We were supposed to be married in three months, on the cliff side. _We _were the ones that were supposed to have a baby, not you and dancer boy. I don't know how you ever thought I would be understanding of this situation, Bailey." Erik turned on his heel and began to walk away, leaving the blonde in the dust behind him. Her broken voice echoed with fright.

"I thought you were cheating on me, Erik! I went to him for comfort and instead I came back with a baby, Erik."

Erik shut his eyes, breathed in sharply, and cursed the day he continued reading _the _essay.

"Before the convention, I went to a zumba class and I was especially sad that day. You were never home and when I called the school, they told me that you had been staying after school to tutor students - female students. I called around some more and finally ended up talking to your colleague, Professor Guidicelli. She told me that she saw you privately tutor this one student, in your classroom, alone... Just the two of you. I got scared and I started crying. He... He just so happened to be there and he asked me what was wrong... Then..." Bailey was shaking. Erik's head was reeling.

"Who was the student? The name of the student I was tutoring? Did Carlotta - Professor Guidicelli give you a name?" Erik spit fired his questions at the blonde. She was widely confused at his defensive mannerisms.

"I don't remember, Erik." The masked man neared the blonde, closing the space between them.

"Professor Guidicelli gave you a name, I know it. She's just _that kind _of woman." Erik narrowed his mismatched eyes. "What name did she give you, Bailey? I need to know, I don't want this student getting a bad reputation." Bailey tried her best to remember.

"Carly... Kimberly... Cassidy..." Bailey started listing of names with the same sounds. Erik was growing impatient as the woman slowly sealed his fate. "Quincy?... Quinn! Quinn, her name was Quinn. Quinn Cooper, that's the name that the professor gave me." Erik could have sworn his knees gave out in relief. _She _was safe. "Who is she, Erik?" Bailey's tone turned cold, harsh. Erik didn't care.

"She is an English student of mine, she's not very good at writing essays. I helped her on her midterm and she wanted the same help for her final. She's ditsy, doesn't have a very long attention span." Erik began walking once more across the quad. He just wanted to get off campus. "Why do you care so much about who I tutor?"

"I don't care about who you tutor, Erik. I care about who you sleep with, when it's not with me."

"Obviously, my standards in this relationship were much lower." Erik seethed as he thought of his pregnant ex. He was walking much faster now. "I just didn't know I had low standards until you came and rained on my parade."

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Erik laughed loudly as he searched for his car in the teacher's lot. "It's alright if you do, Erik."

"No, I do not have a girlfriend, Bailey. I was engaged. I took it fairly seriously." Erik sighed loudly as he approached his car. "Bailey, the truth is that you're pregnant with someone else's child. You need to be with him to raise that child. I will be just fine. Sell the ring to get some seed money and if you ever need anything, I'll always be at the school. It's unfair to punish an innocent child that hasn't even taken it's first fresh breath of air." Erik opened the passenger door with a soft smile. "Let me drive you to you car, okay?"

"Okay. Erik, just know that I don't want to end this engagement. I want to remain your fiancée."

"I wanted you to remain my fiancée as well."

* * *

Erik plopped down onto the queen bed, immersing himself in the wool blankets. Soon, the heat of another body joined him at his torso. Tiny arms wrapped themselves around his waist, her face burying into his soft neck, leaving a trail of barely there kisses. Her scent was intoxicating, her touch invigorating. He never wished to leave her side.

"I'm thinking about quitting my job." He finally spoke out, his eyes closed as he took in her angelic presence. She took a deep breath. "I've taught for a long time now, I think I want to compose again."

"Really?" Christine smiled widely at her teacher, intertwining their fingers together. "If you go back to composing, you could compose a song for my birthday. It's on Christmas, you know." She giggled a harmonious laugh.

"You're a Christmas baby?" Christine nodded fervently. "Maybe I will write something for you, _my _Christmas baby." She blushed a bright red. "What kind of song would you like, kitten?"

"I want something we can dance to on Christmas morning. I've always wanted to dance with someone on Christmas morning." Her voice was tender, gentle like the first snowfall. "My mom went into labor on Christmas Eve and she was sure she was going to have me on Christmas Eve. I guess I've just always been difficult." Christine let out a nervous chuckle. Erik gathered the tiny ballerina into his arms, her curls tickling his chin. With a kiss to her forehead, the emanating warmth that gathered between them seemed to calm her heightened nerves.

"No, Christine, sweetheart. You were a Christmas miracle. Anyone is lucky to have you on any day of the year."

The couple sat in silence for a moment as Christine wiped a few stray tears with the back of her hand. She sniffled some more, finally getting herself put back together. With a deep breath, she looked up at the masked man.

"What do you want for Christmas, Erik?" The masked man pondered for a moment.

He cupped the ballerina's face in his large hands, connecting their lips in an intimate kiss, the taste of his lips enticing Christine to no end. His hands wandered down to her taut thighs, his fingertips grazing her strong thighs. She shivered beneath his touch as he lazily pulled his t-shirt off of her, her pale skin glowing in the candelit apartment room. He took a moment to look upon the goddess underneath him as he sat on his knees, taking off his own clothes. His thumbs traced circles on her hips, falling loosely to her womanhood, pressing desperately to her budding clit. Christine bit her lip as she watched attentively to the man whose focus was elsewhere. Erik bent down, his swelled lips finding her stomach. He was in infinite bliss.

"The only thing I want is you." Erik breathed against her skin, his mismatched eyes glancing up towards Christine. She sat up for a moment, surprising Erik at the least. Leaning forward, she removed the porcelain mask. He gasped as the cold air hit the charred skin, his breathing sharp and sporadic. Christine smiled, running her fingertips gingerly on the leathery skin as Erik nuzzled his cheek into her angelic touch. With one last smile, Christine placed a feathery kiss on the lacerated cheek, her tiny hands working to wrap loosely around his neck. She never wanted to part.

"Now, _you _have me."

* * *

Erik awoke early out of habit. Trudging to the bathroom, he turned on the shower and waited for the hot water to come through. Christine's shower was impeccably slow at retrieving heated water. Erik peered out of the cracked door to check on the sleeping angel who laid deep in slumber, tangled in the blankets. Erik couldn't help, but smile to himself. As he smiled, the marred side of his face felt a sting of pain. Reaching to feel his deformed cheek, he couldn't feel any difference. He sighed as he approached the mirror. There was a tiny cut. Erik thought to himself. He probably scratched his cheek in his sleep. Erik argued with himself for several moments. Finally deciding that his face was more important, he nervously opened the mirrored cabinet in Christine's bathroom.

"Anti-depressants..." Erik understood as he quickly moved along, searching for Neosporin or ointment for cuts. "Tampons..." Erik cringed as he sifted through various bottles of hair care treatment, toothpaste, and makeup. He _actually _recognize most of the hair care products. Stumbling upon the most interesting bottle that was hidden on the top shelf, Erik's more than perfect eye sight wasn't failing him. "Camouflage makeup?" Erik turned the bottle to read the details. "It covers tattoos, blemishes... and scars-"

"Erik?" The professor jumped as he turned suddenly to see Christine sitting up in bed.

"Christine, go back to sleep, kitten." His heart was beating rapidly. "I'm just going to take a shower." Christine fell onto the bed and drifted back into a deep sleep. Erik shook his head to clear his head. Focusing his attention back onto the bottle in his hand, he noticed that it was almost finished. Looking up towards the top shelf, he moved the other bottles to make room for the cover up makeup, only to find five or six more bottles of the camouflage makeup. Erik didn't want to pry anymore. Shutting the cabinet, he stripped himself of his pajama pants and hopped into the shower, now scalding hot. One can never get it just right.

After his shower, he found Christine in her kitchen, making two cups of tea, singing a small French tune.

"Good morning, kitten." Erik had finally found the ointment after his shower, the gel stinging his wound. "How was your night?"

"Fine, just fine." She purred as she placed a kiss on his shoulder. "I made you some tea." Erik scanned the girl, noticing that she was wearing long sleeves and sweatpants. He had never seen her in sweatpants before. "Honey and lemon or sugar and cream?"

"Honey and lemon, kitten." Christine placed the bottle of honey and bowl of sliced lemons on the tray, walking over to Erik who had taken a seat on the couch next to the fat cat. "Are you cold, kitten?"

"No, it's hot in here, but my throat was a bit sore." She shrugged her shoulders and brought over her cup of tea. "André looks exhausted from doing nothing all night." Christine giggled as she brought the teacup to her plush lips. Taking a sip of hot tea, she smiled happily.

"If you're hot, why don't you put on one of my shirts or something?" Christine froze. "You'd be more comfortable, kitten." Christine shook her head, pulling the blanket on top of her. She wrapped the large university blanket around her tiny figure, earning a content meow from the cat. She looked down and blinked incessantly.

"I'm fine, thanks." She answered tersely. With another sip of her tea, she sat up and looked at Erik with fire through her glasses, her breathing erratic and shallow. "By the way, next time you need a first aid kit, ask me first and don't go searching through my stuff."

"I'm-"

"I don't go to your house and search through your things. I don't go over to Bailey and ask questions about your engagement or past. I'm sure I'd find a great deal of secrets on The Great Literré."

* * *

**A/N: Short chapter, but I will keep updating tonight to make up for lost time. **

**:) **

**Thank you my dears.**


	10. Chapter 10

'**Twas The Night Before Christmas**

**A/N: I definitely lied and said I would update again to make up for lost time, but rush is crazy. I just want to sleep and write Phanfiction ugh...**

* * *

"Erik Lantier." The masked man grumbled as he answered the phone with annoyance.

"Hello Professor Lantier. This is Aaron Gershwin." Erik's eyes widened as he paused in the middle of the microwaveable meals isle. "I take it that you have listened to my audition tape by now." Erik sighed.

"No, I have not." He simply replied, grabbing a couple of packages of dirty rice off of the shelf. "If you are to audition for me, you're to audition for me in person."

"You see Professor Lantier, I'm unable to do that, the reason being that I won't be in town until after the Christmas holiday is over and school is back in session." Erik rolled his eyes. "I don't suppose you take second semester auditions."

"Mr. Gershwin, I assure you that nothing you say to me right now will sway my opinion of you. I don't know how you got my number and frankly, I really don't want to know. I asked Bailey if you were truly related and she said she didn't know you. Whatever game you're playing, it isn't fun for either of us. Please stop calling me. I'm just a teacher." Erik angrily hung up, shoving his phone into his pocket.

He thought back to that conversation with Bailey. She didn't recollect any person in her family named Aaron, let alone a half brother. Erik tried doing research on the man, but nothing came up that was useful. He was much too old to be a high school student, but he looked too young to be related to Bailey. Sooner, hopefully rather than later, Erik was determined to find out who he was and why he was so interested in his class. Surely, it wasn't his class that he was after, but it was a good place to start. He knew about the accident and that churned Erik's stomach. It made Erik weak to think that a stranger knew about the fire. It led Erik to believe that Aaron was there when the fire happened, but that idea was far fetched. For now, microwave meals was his top priority.

* * *

"Did you find everything okay?" The clerk spoke clearly as she smiled at Erik, ringing up the remaining items.

"Yes I did, thank you." Erik pulled out his wallet, glancing down at the various foods he bought.

"Your total is $27.61 and will that be debit or credit?" Erik handed the woman thirty dollars. "Alright sir, thank you for choosing Trader Joes. Have a Merry Christmas!" Erik nodded politely and grabbed his three bags of groceries.

The California air was brisk, but not cold. He was thankful for that. Unlocking his trunk, he gently placed the bags down, not remembering which bag carried the eggs. Suddenly, his phone began to vibrate. He sighed once more, hoping and praying to numerous Greek and Roman gods that it wasn't Aaron Gershwin.

"Erik Lantier." Erik closed the trunk of his car and hopped in the front seat.

"Hi there, teacher." Christine's perky voice echoed lightly on the other line. "How are you?"

"I'm good, kitten. How are you?" Erik's heart swelled ten times larger at the sound of her voice.

"I'm fine! Do you have any plans tonight? It's Christmas Eve, you know." Erik glanced around at the obnoxious Christmas decorum.

"Yes and tomorrow is my kitten's birthday." Christine giggled, blushing deeply at his smooth words. "Santa got you a couple of gifts. You still believe in Santa, right?"

"Only if Satan is about six foot three - four, has dark hair, and wears a white porcelain mask." Erik smiled at her flirty remark as he started his car. "In any case, are you going to come over tomorrow?"

"I wouldn't miss Christmas Day with you for the world, kitten. I owe you one very special dance." Christine was blushing even harder, if that was even possible. "I have to go run some errands, kitten. I'll call you tonight."

"Bye, teacher." Her voice was quiet. She hated goodbyes.

"Christine." Erik spoke tenderly, his voice almost broken.

"Yes, teacher?" Her tone was hopeful. She wished with everything she could that he wouldn't have to leave her.

"I love you."

* * *

Meg sprawled out onto the purple couch, André laying on her stomach. Once a week, Christine would bring herself and André over to Meg's apartment for a play date. Meg's cat, Piangi, was black and white - equally as overweight. These were some of Christine's favorite days, the ones spent with Piangi, Meg, and André. Escaping away with Meg had always been Christine's favorite. After ballet practice, Christine would hide away with Meg for an hour or two. That was until Christine's dad would find her and drag back home. A memory she would gladly forget.

"Christine, what are your plans for Christmas?" Christine shrugged her shoulders as she plopped down in front of the TV.

"I'm probably just going to stay at home." Meg tilted her head. "What about you? Are you driving home?"

"Yeah, I'm going home for Christmas. You should come with me. I could always use a buddy in the car." Christine smiled.

"Yes, but you need someone to watch Piangi. Really, I'm fine." Christine's phone began to ring loudly, permeating the room. Meg grabbed the phone off of the table, glancing down at the screen. Her eyes widened. "What?" Christine's eyes filled with confusion. Meg dropped the phone onto the ground, her face turned to bewilderment.

"W-Why..." Meg mumbled as the phone continued to ring. Christine slowly rose to her feet, walking over to her phone. Bending down, Christine's eyes landed on the screen, finally illuminating Meg's reason for horror.

"Meg, it's not what you think!" Christine let the phone run to voicemail. "Meg, please, let me explain." Meg stumbled backwards and away from the curly headed ballerina in caution. "Meg, please."

"Christine, no! Get away and get out of my apartment!" Meg screamed at the curly haired dancer, her hands shaking with terror. "You... You!" She couldn't form words. "Why, Christine? Why?" She shouted again. "You're..." Meg's breathing was shallow, her eyes pleading for an explanation.

"I'm what? A slut? A whore? I'm easy? What am I, Meg? Tell me, goddamnit!" Christine was crying now, her eyes burning with salty tears, her voice cracking with a brokenness only Meg could comprehend. Meg sighed. "It's not w-what you t-think, Meg... I s-swear..."

"Christine..." Christine's knees fell beneath her as she fell to the couch, her body emotionally drained of itself. Christine buried her ashamed face into her quavering hands. André took notice of his owner's emotional state as he nudged at Christine's side with a soft mew. "Christine, I don't think you're a whore or a slut."

"Yes you do, it's okay..." Christine coddled her fat cat as he purred comfortingly in her arms, her tears dripping down onto his spotted fur.

"No, I don't. I never have and I never will, Christine." Meg took a seat in front of Christine on top of the coffee table, just as defeated. "I was just startled, that's all... Christine, you can't possibly be failing that class. You scored a five on the AP exam and you always do well on his tests. You're never one to skip a homework assignment and you're willing to help out the teacher by tutoring de Chagny and his dull brain." Meg was truly befuddled by Christine's situation, her choices.

"Meg, you have to understand something." Christine looked up from the burrows of her palms. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks were plush. Meg almost felt sorry for her. "I'm not with Erik for a good grade or because I'm failing his class. I'm with Erik, because I love him." Meg's bright blue eyes widened, her jaw slightly dropping as Christine spoke the forbidden words.

"Love? You love that guy? Do you even know him, Christine? He's our teacher!" Meg was shouting again. "He's engaged and he's about twenty years older than us!" Meg's hands flew up in anger as they flailed about the room. Christine remained silent. "Christine, he can get in some serious trouble for banging a student-"

"Yes, he is our teacher, but he's also a great composer, a virtuoso. He isn't banging a student!" Christine stood to meet Meg's furious gaze. If one thing was certain, Christine wasn't afraid of Meg. "He's not engaged anymore and he's only fifteen years older than me as of TOMORROW!" Christine felt like slapping Meg, maybe that would put some sense into her. "I love him and he loves me."

"Do you actually hear yourself right now? You sound like a thirteen year old girl, Christine. This is college, this is serious shit!" Christine turned on her heel and headed to Meg's bedroom. She could hear footsteps behind her. "Love is not going to solve the problem you've put him in, the problem you've put yourself in, Christine!"

"And yelling at me is?" Meg's nostrils flared as Christine stared down the blue eyed devil. "You don't know anything about us."

"Does he know about your dad?" Christine's bones tightened, her blood curling.

"Yes." Meg tilted her head in skepticism. "I even took him to my childhood home."

"Does he know about your step mother?" Christine nodded confidently, folding her arms in front of her chest. Meg scoffed at Christine's faux-confidence. "What about the chains and abuse?"

"You can keep questioning me, but I'm just going to keep telling you that he knows everything." Meg rolled her eyes as Christine smiled obnoxiously. Childish, really.

While Christine was distracted with boasting her and Erik's trust, Meg took the opportunity to grab Christine's bag. Running to the living room, she dumped the contents on the couch. She scanned the items as Christine ran in behind her, shouting obscenities. Meg was always faster than Christine. Meg ran track in high school and was a sprinter, always earning the green monster called envy from Christine.

"What the fuck?" Christine shrieked at Meg. "Give my bag back right now!"

"Why the fuck do you have all this cover up makeup, Christine?" Meg held up maybe seven little jars of liquid cover up, shoving them in Christine's face. Meg was furious with Christine like the curly haired girl had never seen.

Meg was always the calm one, the person to ease the other's mind. Meg's touch was tender, her voice like silk. After ballet practice, Christine would rest her head on Meg's lap. She always found comfort while Meg ran her feathery fingers through Christine's matter curls. Meg was kind to Christine, she never shouted or blamed Christine. Meg understood that Christine's father was bad and that he did bad things. Meg was the one to tell her mother about Christine's dad and somehow three years later, Christine was off to live with her step-mother. Meg was Christine's constant angel and she would never be able to repay her.

"What the hell are you trying to cover up, Christine?" The curly haired ballerina rapidly started shaking her head, her tears filling the corners of her eyes.

"Nothing, absolutely n-nothing." She stuttered out, her eyes falling to the ground. Meg sighed. "I just like t-that brand o-of makeup a lot..."

"Christine..." Meg's voice had turned soft, the voice that Christine knew so well. "Christine, you know you can tell me anything..." Meg brought Christine into her arms, embracing her shaking body tightly. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Christine. It just took me by surprise. It's something I'll have to get used to, you know?" Christine was silent. "If Professor Lant- Erik... Makes you happy, then I want to be happy with you. I always want you to be happy." Christine wiped the remnants of her heated tears with the back of her hands. She could feel Meg's sincerity.

"He doesn't know about the scars..."

Meg knew that Christine was self conscious about the markings her father left her with, the scars being the only things to remember him by with great antipathy. The blonde led Christine to the small pink bathroom, gesturing for Christine to sit on the toilet. Meg began to rummage under the sink for a wash cloth. Once equipped with a cloth, she ran some warm water and applied soap to the material. Kneeling on the cold tile, she placed Christine's ankle in her delicate hands and began washing away the flesh colored makeup. The harsh scars were soon revealed as Meg continually rubbed off the makeup, moving up and down Christine's leg. The blonde dare not move any further as Christine buried her face in shame. Meg threw the cloth over the side of the tub and washed her hands and kneeled in front of Christine once more. The brunette was trembling. Meg gently tore her shaking hands from her face, grasping her quivering hands in hers. It was as if they were ten years old again and ballet class had just been let out, the two of them standing alone e in the back alley waiting for Meg's mother to bring Christine some form of something edible. Christine was skinny, bony. Her fingers lanky and her fingernails filled with dirt. Her curls were matted together, her ribs were poking through, and her lips were so chapped that they bled profusely. Meg wondered about Christine the day she walked through the studio doors. Christine told Meg that she convinced her father that she was at a special place where girls meet men. That was the only place her father would have let her run off to, that's what she told Meg and Meg's mother. She found the dance studio on her way to the doctor's one day when she began coughing up blood. Christine had read in a book that one of the character's was coughing up blood and later that character died. Christine did not want to die, not then and not now.

"Oh love, I promise that if he loves you, he'll love every scar and every mark." Meg smiled softly as she moved a wisp of hair behind Christine's ear, her bright blue eyes glimmering down at Christine. "Trust me. You trust me, right?" The curly haired ballerina grinned as her heart swelled. The warmth returned to her body as she embraced her friend - her sister.

"I trust you, I always have and always will."

* * *

_Christmas Day_

Erik's eyes slowly opened as he rolled onto his back, the cool air hitting his face. He groaned immensely at the soreness of his back. He was getting older. The bare walls of his new apartment welcomed him as he sat up on Christmas morning, yawning loudly to permeate the crisp air. Erik thought about the day ahead of him and all the things he needed to accomplish before heading over to Christine's apartment. Rubbing his eyes, Erik finally stood to his feet and stretched his body. The cracking of his bones was more than disconcerting to the unmasked man. Erik walked over to his bathroom, trying to list off the items he had bought for Christine, making certain he bought everything he needed. Erik had a feeling he was missing something and he did not enjoy that feeling.

"Merry Christmas, teacher." Christine's perky voice bounced off of her apartment walls as she wrapped her arms around Erik's neck in an embrace of welcome. "I missed you." Her green eyes illuminated Erik's world as he placed a chaste kiss on her nose. The teacher took off his coat and placed it on her coat hook while she walked into the kitchen, grabbing two cusp of eggnog. His eyes never left her petite figure. "Spiked or not spiked?"

"Christine, you're not even twenty one," Erik sighed as he glided over to his muse. "But you are nineteen." From behind his back, Erik pulled out a tiny red box, tied with a black string. Christine's eyes lit up even more as she put down the bottle of vodka. Erik couldn't help, but let out an airy chuckle. "Happy-Merry Birthday-Christmas."

"Erik..." The masked man handed Christine the gift as she delicately pulled at the black ribbon. She put aside the ribbon. She loved ribbon. Erik watched her carefully as she opened the red box, her eyes centered on present. As Christine opened gift, her nimble fingers revealed a brand new slate gray iPod nano. She smiled so widely the bottom row of her teeth made an appearance. "Oh, Erik! This is amazing, you shouldn't have spent so much money on me... I can't believe you would buy me such an amazing gift!" Christine was so embarrassed that she had started to cry. "This is the nicest gift anyone has ever given me..."

"Kitten, no, don't cry." Erik grabbed the iPod and placed it on the desk, taking Christine in his arms. She was shaking. "It's nothing, really. I wanted you to have something to put all your music on, something you can have all your dance routine music on, you know..." Erik had trailed off into endless possibilities for a new iPod. Erik cupped Christine's trembling face in his hands, wiping her tears with his thumbs. "Christine..."

"Y-Yes..."

"Do you want to know the real reason as to why I got you an iPod?" Christine tilted her head in confusion, sniffling back her tears.

"I guess?" She spoke confusedly. Erik only smile widely.

"Well, your Christmas waltz is on your iPod, the one I composed... Just for you." Slowly, a giant grin appeared on her face, a blush so deep that it warmed Erik's bones. Holding out his hand, Erik bowed and smiled again. Christine placed her hand in his as they walked over to the middle of the room. Erik quickly placed the iPod in her speakers, pressing play. He made his way back to Christine and held his hand out once again. She was going to cry again, but she didn't care. He didn't care either. They were in euphoria. "May I have this dance, Mademoiselle Daaé?"

* * *

"Thank you for a perfect Christmas, Erik." Christine mumbled as she drifted in and out of sleep, her body pressed against his.

"It wouldn't have been perfect without you, truly Christine." The unmasked man looked up at the ceiling, his arms behind his head. "I love you."

"I love you more." Christine purred against the flesh of his neck. Suddenly, the student sat up, her hair going awry. "Oh my god!"

"What?" Erik looked like he had just seen a ghost. "What's wrong?" Christine bent over Erik and scrummaged through the bedside table drawer.

"I forgot about your Christmas present!" Erik sighed of relief. "It's something small, but I really hope you like it."

"Christine, you didn't have to get me anything." Erik said while he glanced at Christine who was still searching in the dark. He wondered why she hadn't invested in a lamp or even a flashlight. "I didn't want you to spend money on me."

"You got me three gifts, Erik. I think it's only fair that I bought you one." Christine finally grabbed what she wanted and set it on the bed. Hopping off the bed, she ran around the room, lighting some candles. "I'm sorry, I don't have a lamp. Electric bills are expensive as is."

"Christine, this present is about fifty pounds in weight..." Erik groaned as he lifted the gift in his lap. "What is it?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise!" Christine finally sat down on the bed again beside her teacher. "It's really two presents, but I was too lazy to wrap them separately."

"Okay, okay." Erik began to unwrap them, inspecting them meticulously. His eyes grew wide at the first gift. "Holy..."

"Do you like it?" Christine smiled hopefully as Erik's mouth was agape. "Erik?" He was silent.

"C-Christine..." Erik muttered under his breath. "How did you get t-this?" Christine shrugged her shoulders. "This is one of the first editions of The Phantom of The Opera's... In the original French text..." Erik breathed out, absolutely floored. "This must have cost you... S-So... Much..."

"That doesn't matter, Erik. What matters is if you like it or not!" Erik's eyes gradually met with Christine's candlelit gaze. "Do you like it?"

"I love you, so much... This means so much to me, Christine. I don't think you know how much you mean to me with or without this gift, Christine. I love you, oh god, I love you!" Christine blushed deeply as Erik leaned forward, placing kisses up and down her neck. Christine giggled as Erik's stubbled tickled her skin.

"Erik! Erik, teacher! Erik, open the other gift!" Christine kissed Erik softly, pushing the second gift onto his lap. Erik groaned in detestation. Finally obliging, Erik hastily opened the second gift, only to have the same reaction. "Do you like this one too?"

"Christine, you spoil me..." Erik's eyes scanned the empty leather bound book of empty pages of sheet music. His initials were engraved in the bottom right corner, the word, 'Compositions,' engraved in the center on the front. "Christine, this is beautiful." Erik's fingertips grazed the markings as he flipped through the empty pages, just imagining the brilliance that could fill it.

"This is for your new compositions that could be, maestro. Let your fantasies unwind on these pages, Erik." Christine closed the space between them, wrapping her arms around his neck. She inhaled his scent and connected her lips to his in a feverish kiss. She longed to taste him, his lips that spoke such sweet words.

"I love you, Christine." Erik momentarily pulled away, his breath seething down the flesh of her throat, his fingers digging into her small of her back. Pushing his body down, Christine made herself comfortable on his torso, her legs on either side of him.

"I love you too, Erik, always." Christine leaned down, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. Her teeth nipped at his skin, their fingers intertwining in a joining that electrified Christine down her spine. "Be mine." She whispered, her forehead pressed to his, their lips so close they graze each other in teasing kiss.

"I am yours." Christine smiled against his lips, her kiss passionate as his hands found her hair, pushing the kiss further, their tongues battling for dominance in a heated dance. She never wanted to leave and he was never going to allow it.

"I have to show you something Erik." Christine paused, knowing that she had to tell him the truth.

"Hmmmm, what is it kitten?" Erik hummed against her skin.

"Will you still love me?" Christine choked out the words like a kicked puppy, her gaze averted to Erik's chest.

"Christine? What are you talking about? Of course I'll still-"

The room fell to an absolute silence.

* * *

**a/n: I have the worst headache. **

**anyway. I'm sorry for the delay. **

**here is a longish chapter. **

**taking a mini-break from this phanfic this weekend to update my other two. :) just for a couple of days. anyway. I love you. thank you for reading and hopefully reviewing. I love you. goodnight. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Redeem Me**

**_"If I am the phantom, it is because man's hatred has made me so._**

**_If I am to be saved, it is because your love redeems me" _**

**_Gaston Leroux_**

* * *

_Christine sat in the heap of blankets, her curls overtaking her pale body as she exhaled small puffs of air. The dancer was trembling, she was so nervous, but in the back of her mind she knew that this was the right thing to do. If she and her teacher were to take their relationship any further, this was something he needed to know, to see. Her life was no bundle of roses or sunflowers, no. It was not luxurious or filled with privileges and rights. The masked man knew that she had suffered to an extreme degree, but she had done such a good job of covering up what damage had been done to her that the shocked that the masked man received, was too horrid to recall. She seemed happy, like nothing had ever phased her or come in her way of living. She was intelligent, book smart, and socially advanced, getting involved with individuals two to three years older than her. Christine was unique, outspoken and brighter than any other student Erik had ever encountered. There was no sign of torture or suffering over her head or in her green eyes. She held no chains of sorrow or remorse as she fluttered into class with a smile as wide as the vast world she held in the palms of her hands. Yet, the grief that remained unspoken that poisoned her blood and the taste of her lips, seldom appeared to the visitor's eye. In polar opposition, it never left the dancer's heart, it beat so deeply within the caverns of her chest that it began to shatter her from the inside out, slowly disintegrating the minuscule amount of sanity she had left, she was left from years past. With every ounce of her being, Christine believed she was irreparable, too shattered to be pieced back together and too lost to be redeemed. _

_'Whatever it is, you can tell me. You can trust me, Christine.' The teacher sat cautiously across his student with his back against the head board, his eyes full of concern and worry. Christine took a deep breath. She wanted with everything she had to trust him, but there was something very black, very dark keeping her from giving her heart to him, her full trust in him. _

_'It's not something I have to tell you, Erik. I have to show you what all that makeup is used for, what I use it to cover up on my body.' Christine's face remained blank as she hopped off the bed and into the bathroom. Wetting a cloth with water, she slowly began washing off the makeup that covered her ankles. Erik watched carefully from the bedroom. _

_'I don't understand, Christine.' Erik beckoned from the bedroom. The curly haired girl looked up at the teacher. Soon, Christine turned on the bedroom light and walked back over to the teacher. She was crying. Erik reached out to her, but she flinched away from him. With one slow motion, she raised her leg on the bed and his mismatched eyes widened in horror. 'C-Chris...' Erik couldn't even finished saying her name before she began rubbing more of her makeup off of her thigh until her leg was red. She was crying even harder now. _

_'T-This is what I am! I'm hideous!' Christine screamed in her teacher's face as she revealed countless scars and markings. _

_Her skin was raised in various areas. Erik frighteningly searched her legs with his eyes, looking at the burn marks. She was branded, branded like a cow on a farm! The chain link brand marking was on her right ankle, Erik could practically hear the sound of the searing hot metal against her porcelain skin. He covered his mouth in disbelief as he watched Christine sob in terror of herself. She was disgusted with her legs. He noticed a particularly long scar ran from inside her left knee and up her thigh, stopping before her sex began. Erik couldn't look any further. He almost vomited at the sight. Christine began to rub on her stomach, but Erik grabbed her wrist and tore the wash cloth - that was now a pale tan color from all the makeup - and threw it to the ground. He couldn't bare to look at her torture herself any longer. He couldn't stand to look at what evil there was in the world. _

_Erik brought Christine into his arms, wrapping her favorite purple blanket around her. She was shivering from the cold water against her bare skin. She was breathing deeply as she tried to calm her shallow breaths down, but there was no such luck as she cried into Erik's chest. She was mumbling something, but it was muffled by the blanket and her abundance of curls. Erik glanced down at the scars that covered her legs and torso. In a way, he was amazed that she hadn't gotten them removed or used fade cream somehow. As Erik continued to coddle Christine, he moved the blanket aside, her curls going gently with them. Her eyes were red and puffy, her lips pink as ever. Erik had finally been hit with how much older he was then her. He was going to be thirty five and she was barely nineteen. This was very wrong, yet in a way, it was very right. _

_'Christine, you're wrong, you know.' The teacher began with a serious gaze. She blinked a few times. 'I do still love you and I will always love you, even if you didn't have these scars. They are what make you Christine, they are what make me love you.' Erik smiled softly at the ballerina before taking a deep breath. 'You know, I hated myself for a long time growing up with a deformity. I was shunned from society and my mother absolutely despised me. I found that I was gifted in music and I found my muse there, but that was all I had. I had no one to share it with, no one to give it to. I was a hate filled man for a long time and then, the accident happened and I hated myself and the world even more... But you, you taught me acceptance and love.' Erik chuckled at how cliché his speech sounded, earning a giggle from Christine. _

_'I did not.' She simply replied with a grin. 'You were kind before you met me.' _

_'I was a lot of things before I met you and kind was not one of them.' Erik shrugged his shoulders and he set Christine beside him, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 'I struggle with my face a lot, as you know. The mask, it brings attention and mostly unwanted attention. It hurts and it itches, but I've learn to accept that it is who I am. You have taught me that we all have scars, but it's in our imperfections that perfection is found.' Erik smiled again. With a long exhale, the teacher brought the ballerina's knuckles to his lips and pressed his lips gently to them, reassuring her that she would always be his. 'Christine, you have redeemed me and I can't thank you enough for that.' _

* * *

Christine sat in the back of the classroom, her black hoodie covering most of her face. Usually, Erik didn't allow hats or hoods to be worn in class, but Christine wasn't speaking or participating and that worried him greatly. He let it slide this one time. As he continued teaching about Animal Farm, he noticed that there was whispering going on behind him, he hated that too. As he turned around to scold his students, bringing in the new year rather grimly, he noticed that Christine had disappeared from her seat, her belongings left on her desk, her blonde friend wide eyed as ever.

"Where did Miss Daaé go?" Erik firmly asked the blonde upperclassman. She sunk in her seat. "Did you not hear me? Where did she run off to? She can't just leave my class-"

"She was throwing up, Professor Lantier, all over herself!" Meg stood to reach the volume of his voice, irate at his attitude. She couldn't _possibly _understand what Christine saw in this guy, not even beginning with his age. "Do us all a favor and get your head out of your ass." Meg gathered her belongings, as well as Christine's. Storming out of the classroom, Erik stood smack-jawed at the blonde's harsh words. At that moment, he _knew_ that she _knew _about his relationship with Christine and she did not approve, no matter how hard she tried.

"Please, excuse me for a moment." Erik breathed out finally. "By the time I get back, you should have a _completed _outline for me - the one that was due _today._" Erik nodded affirmatively before walking out of his classroom, locking the door behind him. He looking down the hallway and suddenly, he laid eyes on the curly haired ballerina.

He had not seen her since New Year's and since then, she had been ignoring his calls and text messages. It's been two weeks since then and the second semester had been in session for a week now. He thought nothing of it, until she started arriving to his class late. Christine was always a prompt student, never one to waltz into class upon her own agenda. Without a note or reason, the ballerina would chassé into the back row and sink into her desk seat. Erik would remain silent, trying to contain his boiling temper as the week went on and Christine's behavior did not change. He _despised _not having a reason for _anything. _

"Christine! Christine!" The curly haired ballerina was curled up against the wall, her eyes barely opened, her chest barely moving. Erik dashed over to the almost unconscious student, pulling out his phone. Quickly dialing 911 Emergency, he checked her pulse and lifted her into his arms. She was as light as a feather.

"Professor Lantier?" Meg's annoyed voice beckoned from the staircase. Her quick feet met with the professor as he fumbled with Christine and his phone.

"Yes, hello my name is Erik Lantier. I'm a professor here, yes. I have a student here, she's barely conscious. I don't know what happened. Well, if I knew, I would have tried _helping_ her before she got to this state." Erik frantically threw the classroom key to Meg, trying not to disturb Christine. She was mumbling something in French. "She has a pulse, yes. I don't know about past illnesses. I'm not her father. Okay, thank you. Her name is Christine, Christine Daaé." The students began to gasp at the sight of their fellow class mate as Erik came in with his student in his arms. Meg said nothing.

"What happened to her?" Collin Price piped up as Erik tried to make a measly bed out of desks for Christine. "She looks terrible."

"Thank you for your commentary, Mr. Price." Erik sighed heavily, glancing down at Christine. She was shivering. "The paramedics will be here soon. For now," Erik began with a deep pit in his stomach. "You're dismissed for the day. I'll stay with her... I'll watch her." The sea of students slowly arose to their feet, watching their professor closely as he whispered something in a foreign language they did not understand. Finally, she began to stir.

"M-Meg..." Erik in one fluid motion moved out of the way and allowed the blonde friend to Christine's side. Ushering the rest of the students out of his class, he glanced out to the hallway for the EMTs. "W-Why am I a-at school?" Christine groaned with a weak groan.

"You don't remember coming to class this morning, Christine?" Meg's voice was soft, feathery as she spoke gently to the sickly ballerina. "What _do_ you remember?"

"T-The chains... He's here... M-My dad..." Meg tilted her head as her blue eyes widened with fear and terror. "My dad, he's coming for me, Meg!" Christine sat up, grabbing Meg by the shoulders.

"Christine, Christine, you have to lay back down, baby. No one is coming for you, your father is dead. Don't you remember? He died a long time ago, you were very young." Erik listened intently as Meg seared the words down Christine's throat like some sort of ritualistic chant. "_No one _is coming for you, Christine. Not your father, not your step-mother, no one, not even Matt, okay?" Erik took a step forward toward the two ladies.

"_Matt?_" He questioned rather loudly, earning a more than angry glare from Meg. "_Who_ is Matt?" Suddenly, the sirens became audible and surely enough, the paramedics arrived before Erik could get a real answer out of Meg.

"Christine Daaé, age nineteen. She has a fever of 101." The female EMT called as they brought Christine onto the gurney. "Blood pressure is 74 over 40, very low."

"Get some oxygen on her and an IV of water in her. We want to keep her hydrated, let's go!" The male paramedic shouted. Erik and Meg quickly followed behind them as they led Christine, who was now barely awake out to the ambulance. Meg began to step into the back of the vehicle. "Excuse me, only family members are allowed back here."

"She doesn't have any family members!" Meg pleaded as she looked at Christine. She was unconscious as the female EMT desperately tried to hurry up this conversation. "I'm the closest thing she has to family. I can tell you her medical history, her birthday, her... Her..."

"Cousin, I'm her older cousin." Erik finally blurted out as the blonde girl began to furiously sob. "I'm also the one who called, the professor here. My name is Erik, Erik Lantier. She was in my class, visiting me. Her mother, was my sister, she died in child birth. She never knew her father, she was raised by her aunt. My other sister." Erik took a deep breath as the male EMT narrowed his eyes at the masked man.

The male EMT figured that they both had dark enough hair and they _kind of _had the same nose. Hell, both their last names were French too. The male EMT, Brian, was young for an EMT. He couldn't have been more than twenty eight, Erik figured. Brian truly felt bad that she did not have family to come with her, even if what this masked man was saying, was true. With a quickened sigh, seeing that Christine was now in critical condition, he gestured for the tall professor to join him in the ambulance.

"Here is my card, Meg. Meet me at the hospital-"

"Yeah, thanks." Meg turned on her heel and soon she was out of sight and out of mind. Erik looked down at Christine with a sore feeling in his chest. Grabbing her tiny hand, he pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles and set it gently on her chest, careful not to mess with the IV.

As the hospital came into view twenty minutes later, Erik took a deep breath and grabbed his coat. The curly haired ballerina slowly opened her eyes, her breathing shallow and uneven.

"W-Where am I?" She whispered, taking off her oxygen mask, barely audible with everything going on inside the ambulance.

"Miss Daaé, you're at the hospital, you were unconscious. Do you remember what happened prior to your first class this morning?" The female EMT spoke clearly, enunciating her syllables to Christine. Erik groaned.

"I... He's... My professor?" Christine's eyes landed on Erik's mask as she blinked profusely, taking in her surroundings. There were IVs and she was strapped into something.

"Yes, I am your professor, Christine..." Erik scooted closer to her, his tone wary. "You left my classroom and I found you unconscious in the hallway." Christine's green eyes widened as she tried to deny Erik's story. "Do you remember what happened this morning or last night?"

"NO!" Christine was in a panicked state as the EMT's wheeled her out of the ambulance and into hospital. "HE'S COMING AFTER ME!" Erik tried to hurry behind Christine and the EMTs, but he was violently shoved aside by a nurse, earning a less than amused growl. Moving to the waiting room, Erik was handed a clipboard and a pen. He looked down at the form and drew in a long breath, not really remembering just how he ended up there.

"Oh Christine, what have we gotten ourselves into now..."

* * *

Erik cursed in multiple languages as he stepped into his old shared home. He did _not _want to be there, but there was something he needed from his former office. He just prayed with everything he had and hoped that Bailey wouldn't be there to greet him. To his dismay, the smell of a fresh lasagna being baked and a familiar off-pitch singing voice filled the air as he stepped through the door. He quietly approached the dining room that was adjoined with the living room. Erik didn't know if she had noticed him or not. Placing his coat on the all too familiar table, he glided swiftly into the archway of the kitchen and leaned against it, with a clearing of his throat.

"Jesus, Erik! You scared me half to death!" Bailey shrieked as a fork went straight up in the air, landing on the cool tile floor. Erik smiled slightly as he bent down to retrieve the utensil, recognizing that Bailey _still_ fashioned his engagement ring. "You always were very stealthy." Erik handed her the fork with silence. Her baby bump had began to show earlier than a typical pregnancy, yet again _nothing _was typical about it. _  
_

"I just came here to get something in my office that I forgot. I was hoping that you would be at work." Bailey nodded along as Erik looked around the kitchen. The pictures of him and Bailey were mounted gloriously on the walls, as if she was expecting him to come and visit her. "Is everything in there as I left it?"

"Yes, I haven't touched a thing in there." Erik hummed in reply as he curiously glanced down at his engagement ring. It was a simple diamond, elegant in every way. She wore it well and Erik cursed the universe for that. "You know, you're welcome here anytime you want. I'm not banishing you from this house, it still can be ours..." Bailey grew glum as she trailed off, fiddling with the ring on her finger. "I miss you, Erik. This house gets lonely." She simply stated, earning a sigh of confusion from the masked man across from her.

"You don't have dancer boy over here?" Bailey fervently shook her head. "Why not?"

"We're not together or dating, an item. I'm raising this baby on my own, Erik. I didn't want him to be apart of it." Suddenly, Erik stepped closer to Bailey, grabbing her forearm with the most gentle grasp someone could have.

"You are denying a child a father, Bailey. How is that in any way fair to that child?" Erik pointed to her baby bump. "You expect to raise a child on your own, with a hair stylist's salary, and no form of child support?" Bailey bit her lip and shied away from the towering man. There was something stirring within her that she couldn't let go of, that would be fatal to both of them if she parted her lips. "Did you even talk to him about child support?" Bailey shook her head again, her gaze averting to her feet.

"Erik, I..." She began with a timid undertone. Slowly, her eyes raised to meet his mismatched irises; they were searching for an answer that she could not provide. " told him that it was a mistake to think that you would ever cheat on me... This child is mine to keep, because of my doubts." Erik's heart sank into the abyss of his stomach. It churned with an unbearable pain as he imagined the tiny ballerina in the hospital bed, crying for someone to help her. Erik could have thrown up, he felt so sickly about the situation.

"S-So you're keeping the child, because you have to?" He finally croaked out with a shake of his head.

"I don't know!" Bailey began to cry into her hands.

Suddenly, she was no longer the woman pregnant with another man's child and he was no longer the teacher dating his student. She was simply the young lady who helped a young man with a deformity, long, long ago. Her blonde locks fell over her face as she sobbed, her body gathering in a pool on the tile floor. She was now the broken one. The masked man inhaled languidly, taking a step forward to the blonde girl. As he took his seat on the ground beside her, he felt her body melt into hers like it was one puzzle piece fitting into another. His protective arms wound around her as he sat there, forgetting about the life he had beyond the archway, beyond the tiled floor. Erik exhaled once more before lifting Bailey's gaze to his. Her blue eyes were filled with tears and they were red with a tumultuous journey that was not yet over and done. As her jaw quivered in his palms, he couldn't help but lower his lips to hers, to feel the emotion that he felt the day he realized that she loved him, the day that he dared to look beauty in the face.


	12. Chapter 12

**Banana Pancakes**

**College life is very busy. **

**I'm sad about it, really.**

**My depression has come back and that is why I have been offline for so long, but writing helps me with my depression. I am sorry for such a long break. I am back now. I will be updating all stories this weekend! Thank you for being patient with me. I love you all. **

**Please, please read and review. I love hearing from you. **

* * *

Christine finally felt well enough to return back to school after a two week medically excused absence. Upon her arrival to her Monday morning English class, she took her normal seat towards the back with Meg. The blonde was silent, as was the rest of the class. Christine looked around the classroom for Erik, but the front of the class was empty. Erik would _never _skip class. Something was wrong, very wrong and Christine didn't like it.

"Where is Erik?" The ballerina whispered to her blonde friend. Meg blinked slowly, turning towards the curly headed girl. Her blue eyes pleaded with guilt as she remained quiet. "Meg? What's going on here? Why is everyone so quiet? Where is Professor Lantier?" Christine's forehead grew a crease as she frantically asked questions about Erik. The de Chagny boy turned around with saddened expression.

"Lotte," He started, making Christine's eyes dart straight for his hazel gaze. Raoul hadn't called her _that _name since she was probably five or six. All eyes were on Christine and Raoul as he stood and reached out his hand in a gesture of comfort. "Professor Lantier doesn't work... Here anymore, we're waiting on the new professor." Suddenly, Raoul's tone was dismal, as if he _actually _cared about this class.

Christine froze in her stance, her green eyes unwavering. Raoul's mouth was moving rapidly, but Christine didn't hear a word of what he was saying to her. _Fired. _Erik was fired, which means the school found out about them. Christine's mind swirled with endless possibilities. She was trying so hard to figure out how someone would've figured out that he was dating a student and why they wanted him to lose his job. _Fired. _Christine repeated once more in her head as she looked towards the empty desk, cleared of all his belongings. The white board still fashioned his calligraphic handwriting, the faint scent of his cologne looming the air as Christine sat back down her seat. Turning towards Meg, the dancer inhaled a shaky breath, trying to remain as calm as she could.

"Fired, he was fired. Someone must have... Found out about..." Christine didn't want to finish the sentence, in case of an eavesdropper. Meg shrugged her shoulders.

"I heard that he quit." She replied her gaze fixated on the white board ahead.

"Quit? Why would he quit? He loves teaching! Teaching is his life..." Meg looked down at her desk. "I don't understand why he would quit, without telling me." Meg finally reached the end of her rope.

Standing to her feet, she grabbed her book bag and looked down at the freshman. She had never seen Christine so scared in her life. The blue eyed runner shook her head and shut her eyes, the horrible memories of the past coming back to haunt her as she skulked in her own skin. Finally, as she gained the courage to tell the young girl what had been on her mind for days now, she regretted it the moment it slipped past her lips.

"There were a lot of things he didn't tell you while you were in the hospital, Christine."

* * *

_Erik got up the next morning, the marred side of his face feeling better than ever. Bailey had given him some cream to put on the irritated skin before bed and it had been working miracles since then. As Erik leaned over, he was met with empty sheets. Erik yawned and checked the time. 6:21am. The unmasked man rubbed the last night out of his eyes before the sound of the bathroom door clicked open, revealing a very sickly fiancée. Erik sat up immediately, moving to help his fiancée back to bed. He had not a clue on how to handle a pregnant woman, but he was sure that it wouldn't be that much a hassle. It was just a baby, a baby that wasn't even physically tangible. The only challenge Erik faced was the challenge of reconciliation, in all areas of his life no matter how tiny, how minuscule. _

_"You're up early." Erik smiled softly at Bailey, who just groaned in response. "Morning sickness, I suppose then." She nodded slightly before burrowing herself back into the blankets, a sight Erik was not used to seeing Bailey do. _

_"It's horrible these days, it's not even in the morning. It's throughout the day." Erik raised his eyebrow. "I can't get through a full day of work with vomiting nine times in an hour." _

_"That doesn't sound normal, Bailey. You need to go to the doctor... The baby doctor." Bailey let out a soft giggle, resting her hands on the small bump. "I will take you this afternoon after I return from some errands, okay?" Bailey reluctantly agreed, only for the sole purpose of having a few hours to herself to freshen up and clean the house. She wasn't used to having company, his company. _

_"Erik?" Bailey finally chirped up after a few moments of silence. Erik hummed in return. "Do... Do you... Is this... Are we... Are you... This... What is... I mean..." Bailey continued to try and find a suitable way to ask her burning question, but there was just no way to go about it. After minutes of failed attempts, Bailey fell against the pillows in defeat. "Nevermind, it's unimportant." _

_"The child isn't mine, Bailey." Erik blurted out, trying to make the conversation as straightforward as possible. He knew what she was trying to ask and he just wanted to get there faster. "I don't know what this is, but it's very dysfunctional at the moment." Erik sighed as he ran a hand through his dark hair. "We called off our wedding and you are going to have a baby in six odd months, yet here we lie in our home... It's a strange arrangement, I must admit." Erik turned to face his fiancée, his eyes almost as confused as his mind. "We all make mistakes and surely, I've made mine... But a child, a child is something you're going to be with forever. The only problem is," Erik paused to glance down at her baby bump. It was going to burst anytime now. Erik took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He wished that this was all a nightmare and he would wake up somewhere that these choices did not have to be made, to be suffered. _

_"The only problem is, I don't think I can be stuck with his child forever." _

* * *

Erik's phone had been ringing nonstop since he had woken up and _not _gone to work all last week. Yes, he agreed with himself that he would regret quitting with every fiber of his being, but he had to for the sake of his new arrangement. Erik loathed himself for quitting, leaving Christine without breathing a word of it to her before doing so, but he was much older than her and there were things that needed to be done in order for his life to move forward. Christine, she had barely started college. Erik was practically thirty five and in a situation that could either age him ten years or make his unspoken songs take wing.

"I have to go make a phone call. Shall anything happen, you just yell out for me, okay?" Erik made sure his fiancée understood the seriousness of the situation. She just sighed in response. Stepping out of the room and onto his apartment's balcony, he took his phone from his pocket and dialed nervously.

"Hello?" The soft voice answered, leaving an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Erik tried swallowing the lump in his throat.

"K-Kitten, I mean, Christine. I'm sorry, I'm just... I... Hi." He shut his eyes. "I... Are you on campus?"

"No." Erik could feel the hatred that emanated off her smooth skin on his side of the phone. "I'm walking to dance class."

"You shouldn't be walking there, Christine. Do you remember what I said about that area downtown? It's a bad place for a girl like you to be, especially walking and alone." Christine cleared her throat as Erik braced himself.

"I'm with someone, I'm not alone. I know this is a bad area." Erik could hear her searching through her... Purse? She never carried a purse. "Isn't this against the rules?" She finally lipped out, confusing the composer entirely.

"Is _what_ against the rules?" He leaned against the railing, looking down at the busy street.

"You know, you calling me. You're back with Bailey and I don't think she'd be very happy to know that you're calling your ex-mistress." Christine replied flatly as she walked down the cracked sidewalk. The person beside her let out an airy chuckle that Erik just so happen to hear. He didn't like the sound of it.

"How did you know about that?" Christine laughed aloud at his question. She paused in her footing to look over her shoulder. They had picked up a dropped lighter, it still had some kick to it. "Did the school tell you that? Did Professor Guidicelli tell you that?"

"No, Meg told me. She loomed around the idea, that's more like it." Erik groaned at the thought. "After I got released from the hospital and back to school, you were gone. You ignored all my text messages and calls, so I went to my best friend for advice. She was indifferent towards our situation, as well as anyone would be," Christine paused again. Letting out a shaky breath of air, she glanced at her companion with a wide smile. "She told me that she heard down the grape vine that your fiancée was pregnant."

"Bailey, she-"

"Hey, things happen, okay? I understand completely, Erik. I mean, I understand it to the best of my will. I didn't have a _normal _childhood, but I have no doubt that your child will be loved and cared for unconditionally. There was no way we could have kept up our relationship with a baby on the way, _your_ baby on the way." Erik gripped the railing tighter, trying so hard to break it. He was angry and frustrated at how comfortably she spoke of things she did not know of.

"Sometimes, you have to make choices in life that involve one thing over another. This time... It was just two people over one. I was outnumbered and frankly, if I had fought back, it would have been much uglier than your very clean breakaway. We couldn't spend all day locked away on Sunday mornings, eating pancakes and having sex."

If there was one solid word to describe just how Erik felt in that one moment, it would be nauseous. Just as he felt when Christine told him that she used to be chained to the ground as a child, the familiar pit in his throat compiled as he listened to Christine's grave speech. As he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping and praying that that would turn back time and take back the poison that stung her lips, Christine spoke again the words his heart knew would stop beating for, eternally.

"I loved you, Erik... You didn't even give me a warning, absolutely nothing."

* * *

_"Mr. Lantier?" A gentle voice awoke Erik from his slight state of unconsciousness as he lifted his head to meet eyes with the female doctor. She clutched her clipboard close to her chest, while her brown eyes peered down at the masked man. "I'm Melissa Newbury. Christine's doctor. Are you Mr. Erik Lantier?"_

_"Yes, I am Erik Lantier. Is Christine alright?" Erik stood to meet the doctor with panic. "Is she dead, oh God!" _

_"No, sir, no!" The doctor injected by lifting her hands in reassurance. "Christine is fine, she was severely dehydrated. I put fluids in her and the fever was almost immediately gone by the hour." _

_"Oh... Oh, thank God." Erik let out all the air in his lungs. "Is she okay, is she alright?" _

_"She's just fine. She's resting. I suggest keeping her overnight for a couple of days, just for observation." Erik raised his eyebrow._

_"Observation? Why does she need to be under observation?" The doctor eyed Erik curiously with pure skepticism. "I thought you said she was just fine." _

_"I mean, she is healthy, no doubt of it... But, sir... She has scars like I've never seen before all over her body. Christine was branded, chained, and abused as a child. I don't mean to pry, but a patient such as Christine should have come into a hospital much sooner." The doctor paused. "I want to admit her to young adult psychiatric ward, for her post-traumatic stress disorder-" _

_"Christine doesn't have PTSD!" Erik shouted much louder than he expected. Running a hand through his messy hair, he exhaled deeply. "I won't allow it. No, she goes home tomorrow morning, none of this observation will be taking place. She is not a toy to be put on display." The doctor sighed as her expression turned stoic. _

_"I know, sir." _

_"You know what, exactly? You know that she is not to be put on display or you know that she does not in fact have post-traumatic stress disorder?" Erik seethed through his jaw. The doctor looked down at her clipboard, then back at Erik with an unreadable glare. _

_"No." Erik furrowed his eyebrows towards her. "I know that you aren't her cousin, who just so happens to also be a professor at the college." Erik lost the feeling in his body as his knees gave out beneath him. He stumbled backwards with his hand pressed against his palm. The doctor remained emotionless. "I also know that you have been having sexual relations with your student for about five months now. You're also a former composer, a musical genius some may say. Your movement in F major was my wedding march, Mr. Lantier." She exhaled slowly as she relayed all the information to Erik, who was speechless. "Mr. Lantier, are you aware that you have been sleeping with someone who has been sexually abused in the past?" Erik nodded, unable to speak through the dryness of his closed throat. "Are you also aware that the student you have been sleeping with has lied to you about her past, extensively?" _

_"What? What are you talking about? You're lying to me!" Erik's deep voice bellowed through the crowded waiting room. Through the eye hole of the mask, his yellow eye stared intently at the brown eyed doctor, his breathing heavy with fear and denial. "She would never lie to me. Christine is... She is good, she's the best... I've been there... To her world! I've been to her childhood home!" Erik's head was reeling in disbelief as he began to weep. Falling into the chair underneath him, he buried his face in his hands, trying to grasp all the things that were thrown at him with a devilish curve. "She would never lie to me, Doctor Newbury... Never..." _

_Melissa's heart shattered at the sight of the broken man. As Erik wept, the doctor sat down beside him, placing the clipboard on her lap. She rarely got this close to someone involved with a patient. She didn't condone this situation by any means, but the sight of Erik gave such an uneasy feeling in her stomach that Melissa was pulled to almost hug the poor man. Pity, that is what she felt as she watched Erik sob over a girl, barely beginning her youth. His voice had cracked as he sat in pure repudiation of the matter at hand, the truth behind the messy curls he came to knew so well. His lips continuously whispered words of unconditional love towards this girl and the doctor hadn't the slightest of clues as to why. Erik finally raised his head, his blood shot eyes coming into the light as he turned towards the doctor with a perplexed heart. She simply sat there, waiting for him to speak. She could tell that it was on the tip of his tongue, but not in the way that it couldn't be spoken. It was in the way that it didn't want to be spoken, because once it was spoken, then it would be true. _

_"How did it happen?" Erik finally asked as he wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his coat, his eyes slowly blinking away the crystals of salt on his dark eyelashes. _

_"That's an awfully vague question, Mr. Lantier." Erik drew in a long breath. "In my experience with this kind of abuse, it happened over a period of time. She elongated it, for quite some time. She told me that she was first experimenting with it, then she got addicted to it. She had nothing else, no mother or father... I guess you could say it's what kept her company, what kept her occupied. You know, when she wasn't dancing... Dancing, that is the only reason why she isn't dead." Erik let out the air in his lungs again. "The house she showed you was just something she found on a walk, at least that's what she told me." Melissa turned towards Erik with a tilted head. "Did she tell you about her parents?" _

_"Her father... He abused her and chained her to the floor of the house. I asked her about how he died, but she said she didn't know. Rather, she yelled at me and bolted through the forest when I asked her." Melissa nodded slowly. "Is any of that true?" _

_"I don't doubt that she yelled at you or ran away from you when you began to pry through her life." The doctor glanced at her watch. "Do you want to know how he died, Erik?" Peering up from her glasses, Erik braced himself for the worst possible answer. _

_"I suppose, I mean... Nothing could make this day any worse." Erik shrugged. "Hit me with your best shot, Doctor." _

_"He never existed." Erik's eyes widened in confusion as he sat up, stupefied by the enigmatic statement. "She's an orphan, a child who ran away from a foster home when she was six and took up the name Christine, after an opera singer in Paris. She read it in a book. She has no idea who her parents are, she doesn't remember them or care to remember them. She found that she was an exceptional ballet dancer at the age of seven after living on the streets for a year and a woman by the name of Anne Marie Giry took her in, adopted her. She is the cousin of Raoul de Chagny, a student of yours, and the adopted sister of Megdalynn Giry, another student of yours." The doctor looked down at her clipboard. "The more serious scars, like the one on her inner thigh and the branding, were from the foster home... But the smaller ones, were self inflicted. She suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder and severe depression. My best guess is that she didn't want to tell you that she self harmed, she wanted to avoid judgment. She wants to live happily ever after with you, but she knows that's not possible." _

_Erik shut his eyes. He couldn't bear to hear another word. _

_"Do you want to know what she told me when I asked her why she lied to you?" _

_At that moment, Erik didn't know what he wanted. As Doctor Newbury stood to her feet, she blinked slowly as Erik stood to meet her. He nodded with hesitance, trying his best to hold back the ache he held so deeply in his throat. He wanted so greatly just to run down the corridor, to see Christine and hear the words from her lips, to taste the truth straight from life that lived it. _

_"She wanted you to marry her and she knew if you were aware about self-harming, you wouldn't love her anymore as the girl who just wanted to be loved by the man in the mask, the composer and scholar."_


	13. Chapter 13

**Inside My Mind**

**Please read my new updated bio.**

* * *

_Two Months Later_

Christine groaned loudly as she trudged over to the door of her apartment, half asleep. March was unkind to her and all she wanted was a good night's sleep. Propping herself up on her tip toes with grace only a ballerina would have, she only saw a tall figure, clad in black. Fearfully, the five foot three dancer rubbed her eyes and stepped away from the door.

"W-Who is it?" Christine looked around the room for something that could be used as a weapon if need be. All she laid eyes on was André, stretched out on the coffee table.

"Open your door, Christine. We need to talk." The curly headed girl flinched at the deep voice. It was vaguely familiar. "_Now_." As the bellowing voice echoed through the door once more, Christine crept towards the door.

"No! Tell me who you are first!" Christine shouted back at the stranger. Pressing her ear against the door, she could hear an airy laugh escape the stranger's mouth, his airy laugh. She could recognize it _anywhere_, at _any_ time. "Professor L-Lantier...?"

"Open the door, Christine." His voice was at a softer timbre as Christine's eyes widened with shock. Her heart raced at an unfathomable pace as she placed her tiny hand on the lock, turning it once. "_Please_." Grabbing the chain, Christine moved it to the side with shaky hands. In one movement, Christine opened the door, hoping that this was all a nightmare.

"Professor Lantier... W-What are y-you doing h-here?" Erik lifted his head to meet eyes with his former student, her green pupils wider than he had ever seen. He bore a new mask, black. "It's... It's... 3:58 in the morning... And I'm pretty sure you have a baby by now or something... And you're this big time composer - at least, that's what the headlines say. I don't read the headlines that often, they remind me of-"

Erik encased Christine's tiny frame in his arms, a feeling he missed dreadfully. In one swift motion, his lips were on hers in a rush of passion. Christine's arms flew to her sides, unsure if she was allowed to touch him. As their lips moved in sync just as if he had never left, Christine's hands fell onto Erik's chest. His heart was beating even faster than hers. The composer closed the door with his foot, not ever wanting to part lips with Christine, not even for air. As they stumbled back into her apartment, Christine finally realized what she was doing, what was happening. The pain she felt surging through her body as she pulled her lips from his was indescribable.

"E-Erik..." Christine stood with her back against the pillar in her apartment. André had taken notice that there was a guest. "What... What... What are you doing here?" Christine was out of breath. Erik stood across from her, his towering build intimidating her down to the bone.

"You're no longer a college student, you dropped out, Christine. Why did you drop out of college?" Erik inched forwards towards the scared dancer.

"I didn't _drop ou_t, I just left... I'm doing online classes now." Erik's muscles relaxed as he let out the air from his lungs. "I couldn't take it going to classes everyday." Christine looked down at her toes, letting out a sigh of distress. "It was horrible without you there, you have to understand that, Erik."

"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling in class, Christine?" Erik's voice broke as he whispered her name, it burnt his lips.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to quit teaching?" Christine's eyes met the composer's mismatched gaze. He was relentless. "Why didn't you tell me that the baby wasn't yours or that you moved to another house? Why didn't you tell me that you didn't love me anymore? Why did I have to find everything out for myself - why?" Christine was shouting now as hot tears streaked down her reddened cheeks. She was shaking. "Why didn't you tell me that you were going to leave me?"

The only audible sound was her broken, staggered breathing, interrupted by her weak attempts at holding back fierce tears. Her dark eyelashes glistened with pain as she shut her eyes tightly, avoiding any eye contact with the man in her living room. Erik remained silent as he stood and stared at Christine. He had absolutely nothing to say, nothing to excuse his abhorrent behavior in the last two months. It was true that he left her in the hospital after the doctor told him about Christine's real past. Erik blamed stress. He was overwhelmed with Bailey's pregnancy, too overwhelmed to the point that he left her as well. He needed isolation, a place where no one could find him, not even himself. Bailey asked too much of the masked man. To raise a child that wasn't his, it was a nebulous thought he never could wrap his mind around. Freedom was the key to Erik finding his sanity, composing was the gate which would lead him to a happier life. Yet, the masked man missed one very important item in the blur of the last two months as he tried to gain a happiness that seem far fetch. Erik was lacking the lock, to which the key would fit. The only thing that the gates of this said music could be inspired and opened by was Christine, his Christine.

"I was scared, Christine." Erik finally replied with a soft whisper.

"We all get scared sometimes, Erik. It's just a matter of: are we brave enough to face our fears?" Christine's glassy green pupils rose to see that Erik stepped closer to her. She couldn't help, but smile. "Why did you leave Bailey?"

"I was overwhelmed with the thought of raising a child that wasn't biologically mine. How _do_ you know all of this, Christine?" The ballerina smiled widely.

"A girl can't tell all of her secrets." Erik gestured towards the large couch, hoping that the conversation would lead to some answers. Christine hesitantly followed.

"I was hoping that she would tell me at least some of them." Erik mused while Christine got comfortable on the couch. "Why did you lie to me, Christine?" Erik's voice had turned harsh, demanding. Christine flinched into the couch.

"I... I... I was frightened!" Erik narrowed his eyebrow. "I didn't think you'd love me, love a foster kid with no such past." Erik tilted his head. "I come from nowhere, Erik. I don't have parents or siblings. I don't even know my real name, Erik. I was afraid you weren't going to love someone like me."

"Don't be ridiculous-"

"I'm not being ridiculous! You're a composer, a teacher! You have twenty five degrees from seven different Ivy League universities and you even have your PhD. You're one of the most critically acclaimed and highly respected composers in the music industry, Erik. You've traveled the world and have worked for the fucking Shah of fucking Persia! You composed for _The Shah_!" Erik's expression was unreadable to the ballerina, but nonetheless, she continued.

"Your intelligence is immeasurable and your knowledge is infinite. I've never met anyone as smart as you. You're a genius, Erik. Your success is insurmountable and you're only thirty four years old. You have your whole life ahead of you, Erik..." Christine sighed as she glanced down at her hands with a weary gaze. "Erik... What would a man like yourself... Want to do with a girl like me? What would a prodigy composer and astronomical genius... Want with a girl who has no family, no history, and scars that are all deliberate?"

Erik didn't breathe another word. With the most gentle hands, he brought the back of his fingers to trembling her cheek, caressing them to ease with the touch of angel. Christine sighed as she nuzzled into the familiar hand she longed so deeply to feel for so long. Erik only wanted her to know that everything that had had happened between them was purely his fault. He never meant to hurt her. He never meant for anyone to hurt her.

"Christine, Christine..." Erik finally spoke, his voice soft. "Christine, can you look at me?" Her eyes fell upon the black mask. "Christine... You must forgive me, for all I've done."

"There's nothing to forg-"

"Christine, I've brought you so much pain. You don't deserve it, none of it." Christine glanced down at her hands. They were white, quivering. "Can you ever forgive me for leaving you, leaving you in that damned hospital?" Erik paused to look at André, who had now made a bed out of Erik's coat. "I'm never going to leave you ever again, Christine. I promise you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Erik." The composer smiled widely. Christine was thoroughly confused. Erik leaned forward, placing a tender kiss to her nose, earning a reluctant giggle from the dancer. With a slow blink, Erik removed his mask and inhaled sharply when the cold air made contact with the marred cheek. Christine stared intently at the composer. She wanted to touch his cheek, but she was unsure as to if that was still appropriate. Slowly, Erik smiled again and brought her hand to his lips. They were cold against his warm and welcoming lips as he gently brushed against them in a feathery kiss. Christine was in ecstasy as her blood surged with passion, something she needed - something they both needed.

"I know for a fact that I intend on keeping this one."

* * *

Christine awoke the next morning to the smell of chocolate chip pancakes - a delicacy only prepared by the great composer. Wrapping the large purple blanket around her bare skin, she made her way to the kitchen, only to find Erik balancing a pan full of pancakes and blank pieces of sheet music.

"If you set my apartment on fire, you're paying for the damage." Christine muttered from the doorway.

"If I set your apartment on fire, you'll just have to live with me, Christine." Erik placed the pan of batter back down onto the stove, turning around to face Christine. "André likes pancake batter, by the way."

"I'm sure he does." Christine replied with a flat tone. "How does he know what pancake batter tastes like, by the way?"

"Some dripped onto the floor and he just so happened to be there when it happened." Erik shrugged his shoulders. "Don't you believe me?" Christine rolled her eyes, earning a more than childish pout from the very prestigious composer.

"Where are you living nowadays?" Christine took a seat across from Erik, looking down at the marked sheet music. It was like a jigsaw puzzle done in Italian and made in German. Christine sighed at its complexity.

"I have a house about twenty minutes from here. It's in a gated community, on the top of a hill. It has a fantastic view of the city." Christine nodded along at the verbal tour. "I would like you to come with me today, to my new home."

"I'm not sure that's a very good idea, Erik." The composer halted in his motions, his mismatched eyes bearing in Christine's soul. She was immediately uncomfortable and very aware that she was naked. "What?"

"What do you mean,_ 'I'm not sure it's a very good idea, Erik?_' What does that mean?" Erik's unmasked face was relentless towards Christine. "Is there something wrong with Erik's house on a hill? Is it, because it's secluded or in a gated community? Does Christine not enjoy gated communities?"

"_First of all_, why are you talking in third person?" Erik tilted his head in confusion. "Second of all, I have no quarries against gated communities or houses that are secluded. I just didn't think you would want to move that quickly, I mean... You just came back to me... And I to you..."

"Was what we did last night, '_moving too quickly_,' for you?" Christine rolled her eyes as she hopped off of the bar stool. "Christine, I don't understand why you don't want to come to my house. It's far away from-"

"Don't say her name!" Christine shouted at Erik. "_Don't_." Erik turned the stove off and slide the last two pancakes onto Christine's plate in silence. "I'm sorry, I just didn't think you wanted me there so soon..." Christine mumbled the last part of her sentence, inaudible to Erik's ears. Erik leaned over the counter, grabbing his music.

"Christine, I always want you here, beside me." With his music in one hand, Erik walked towards Christine. "I wrote you a song, Christine - another waltz."

"You wrote me a song?" Erik nodded. "When?"

"This morning, while you were still sleeping," Erik began. "I can only play it at my house though, where there is a piano." Christine raised her eyebrow.

"You wrote an entire waltz this morning?" Erik looked around, completely befuddled by her accusation. "How long is it?"

"With accompaniment, around six minutes, I assume." Christine's lips parted as her jaw clearly dropped to the floor. "What? Did I do something wrong? Why are you staring at me like that, Christine? I don't understand." Christine had never seen Erik's unmasked face so overwhelmed with oblivion and confusion.

"Erik, you're amazing. You're... You're..." Christine shrugged at the loss of words.

"I'm what?" Erik tilted his head. Grabbing the sheets of music from the composer, Christine looked down upon them with gleaming eyes. "Do you read music?" Christine scoffed at the thought.

"Not a chance, almighty maestro." Her eyes darted back and forth between the black inked pages, totally in awe of the flawless composition. "I'm just... I'm just so curious..." She muttered under her breath, handing the papers back to their owner. Erik smiled awkwardly as Christine took a step backwards. Taking up the pose of the, 'Thinking Man,' Christine narrowed her eyebrows in curiosity and placed her hand on her chin, examining every inch of the strange man in front of her - a man she could call her own.

"What are you curious about, if I may ask?" Christine smiled and looked up towards the top of Erik's head, where his dark hair lay awry. It was nice to see that even the great composer had bad hair days.

"I wonder what it would be like to spend a day inside that mind of yours." Erik immediately grinned, his mismatched eyes lighting up in glee. Out stretching a hand to the dancer, Erik nodded in a kind gesture as Christine placed her hand in his, only hoping that he would never let her go.

"Come with me and you might just find out, kitten."

* * *

Erik pulled up to the large white gate, locked with a golden insignia. Upon further inspection, Christine soon realized that on the insignia, were Erik's initials. Christine had never been to such a nice neighborhood. The trees all looked alike and the street was freshly paved. He was right. He did have a beautiful view of the city. Christine swallowed hard as Erik drove into the large semi-circle for a driveway. This was not a house. This was a mansion, a composer's mansion.

"I hope André likes my house." Christine nodded silently, overwhelmed by the grandiose marble pillars and footman waiting for Erik at the door.

"Y-Yeah..." Christine shakily exhaled as she exited the car. Walking to the front door, the elderly footman nodded politely, opening the oak doors, exposing one of the most beautiful sights Christine had ever seen. "T-Thank you, Darius." Christine's eyes wandered around the foyer, where a grand staircase that broke off into two separate directions awaited her. Carpeted with royal blue carpet, the staircase was by far the most regal thing Christine had ever gotten the pleasure of seeing.

"Right this way, kitten. I'll get you something to drink." Erik's voice crept behind Christine, causing her to be startled as she leapt back into his chest. His hands naturally found her hips as she took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of roses, the only scent she knew him by. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"Erik, this isn't a house. It's a fucking mansion!" Erik chuckled softly, the vibration of his throat tickling the back of her head. "How do you never get lost in this place?"

"Well, when you are always stuck in the music room composing for operas and such, you tend to get familiar with one location." Erik and Christine began to walk towards the left archway, which led to a sitting room. Simple black furniture dawned the room, along with a simple fireplace. A few art pieces fashioned the walls, while the green wallpaper gave it a lively touch.

"I would need a tracking device if I ever lived here." Erik made his way over to the bar in the corner, intently listening to the dancer go on about his home. "How could you afford such a nice house?"

"The industry I am in now, pays me well. For example, I'm composing a new opera. Once it's put into production, I'll be getting a percentage of the ticket sales. If it's popular and in high demand, that means I'll make more money. If it isn't, I still get paid comfortably for composing the opera. Let's say it is popular, I would get paid a percentage for each week it is put on, if they are performing an original opera I composed." Christine smiled softly, trying to seem as though she was paying attention.

"Where is your music room?" Christine pondered for a moment. Christine made her way over to the bar, peering over the counter, while Erik stirred her drink slowly.

"Underground, my dear. It's underneath the house." Christine raised an uneasy eyebrow. "By the way, since you're not 21, this is the only drink you're having today."

"What? I've never heard of such a thing. How would you even under there? Why is it underground? Don't you get claustrophobic down there? Do you have a problem with the normal level of ground, human ground?" Erik left out a small, airy laugh as he handed Christine the glass full of red liquid.

"It's a hardly-spiked Shirley Temple." Erik smiled widely behind the black mask. Christine tilted her head curiously. "I have no quarrels with the, 'human level of ground.' I just enjoy having a space where I won't be disturbed by Darius or anybody else when I compose." Erik shrugged his shoulders as he led the tiny dancer over to the couch.

"Doesn't it get lonely down there?" Christine took a sip of her drink, only to be thoroughly delighted by the taste.

"No, not really. When I'm in my music room, I'm in my own little world." Christine nodded once more, inhaling slowly.

"Would you ever let me into your music room, into your little world?" Gradually, a grin appeared on the masked man's face. Erik grabbed Christine's small hand in his and gently pulled her to her graceful feet. "Where are we going?"

"Oh, nowhere yet, my kitten." Erik leaned down as far as he could, nestling the uncovered side of his face into the crook of her neck. Humming softly, he pressed his warm lips against the hot flesh, earning a few uncontrollable moans. "First, you must do something for me..." Erik mused as he wrapped his arms tightly around her small waist.

"Anything." Christine managed to grasp a few hairs at the nape of his neck.

"You sure you're ready to make that promise?" The sound of Erik's vibrating voice sent chills down Christine's spine.

"I was ready to make that promise the first day of class, Professor Lantier." Erik pulled Christine closer to his body as he inhaled her scent of Shea butter and coconut. Separating himself from her, he connected gazes with his former student and realized that he should have never left the hospital to begin with, never. "Just tell me what you need me to do, Erik."

"Christine, you need to forgive me, please... Forgive me for leaving you in the hospital... I should have never left you and it's going to haunt me until the day I die, but forgiveness is the first step to recovery..." Christine nodded slowly as Erik moved a piece of stray curl behind her ear. "And Christine..." He began once more with an unreadable expression - the worst kind ever known to man. "I need _you_ to let _me_ inside _your_ mind."


	14. Chapter 14

**Weeping Angels**

**Hello All, **

**A quick message before the chapter starts. I know I've been awfully slow about updating and that is entirely my fault, but as you may know or not know, I attend the University of Alabama (We made worldwide trends on Twitter, ABC News and the Huffington Post). On Sunday the 20th, we received an anonymous YouTube comment that threatened gun violence upon the student body - specifically the sororities and fraternities. Sorority row was put on lock down and even the all girls dormitory was also put on lock down. The next day, another threat was sent out, but it was raised to a bomb threat. Many students were too scared to leave their dorms and many students began leaving campus to go home for the week and weekend. Classes were cancelled and/or made optional for those who were too frightened to leave their residence halls. I did eventually fly out that Friday to Florida where my parents live and I did spend the weekend. I just got back to campus around midnight last night. **

**It was very tense last week and even now, people are still on edge. The UAPD is still working with the FBI to investigate the case of gun and bomb threats. They have arrested numerous people who had government affiliation, but no one person has been caught or identified as the original source of the YouTube comment. **

**I am very sorry for the lag on updating. I am working hard to get my life back together as last week did give me two or three panic attacks. It heightened my anxiety quite a bit, but I did manage to write some as well. I hope you can understand why the reasoning as to why I have been so slow at updating. I'm not ignoring you, I promise. I still love you guys and I hope you still love me. **

**Stay safe, **

**A**

* * *

In her mind, she imagined something dark and cold, the sound of something dripping constantly echoing in the background. She pictured mist surrounding her and the feeling that she was being followed, but the lair that the composer had beneath his house was nothing like what she had painted in her head. Sure, it had black leather furniture and deep red carpeting, but it was well lit and it smelled like apple pie. There was something regal about it, really. The organ was majestic and the fact that Erik had made it by hand, made the hairs on Christine's arm stand straight up in pure excitement. The most exhilarating part though, was the lake. Who knew there was a lake beneath his mansion? Erik warned her never to venture into the ice cold water, though. It was simply for show, nothing more and nothing less. Christine thoroughly enjoyed the theatricality of Erik's lair, as did the composer himself.

"Meg is going to start wondering where I am, you know... If you keep hiding me under here." Christine's petite voice beckoned from behind the composer as he sat at his piano bench, in a completely different room from the organ.

"Then let her mind wonder." Erik leaned over towards the sheets of music, grabbing the pencil from behind his ear as he began to mark up the paper.

"How many rooms do you have down here, anyway?" Erik paused as he met eyes with the curious dancer. "You could just live down here! You won't have to worry about anyone bothering you."

"Though your suggestion is kind, it is awfully nice to see the light of day every so often." The composer smiled softly towards Christine as he felt the ivory keys beneath him, inhaling the sweet scent of cinnamon wafting around him. "I have five rooms down here. This room, which is used for my piano and violin. I have a room for recording, which is equipped with a fifty piece orchestra, and a room for my organ. A bedroom, if I'm working late and need time to rest, and a bathroom."

"Do you sleep here very often?" Erik shrugged his shoulders, trying to play out the next few notes of his symphony. "It seems lonely down here... Is it very lonely?" The masked man let out a heavy breath as he turned towards Christine. His mismatched eyes looked weary, tiresome.

"Is it lonely inside your head, Christine?" The curly headed dancer tilted her head in pure confusion. "Do you get lonely when you're left alone with your own thoughts?" Erik stood to his feet in one swift motion. With a flick of his wrist, Christine joined him. She was simply mystified at the power he had over her. "If I left you in a room, with all your thoughts personified, would you be lonely?"

"I... I don't understand." Christine furrowed eyebrows inward in pure frustration. Erik only let out a truncated laugh in response - a dark, melodic laugh that emanated from his chest, that chilled Christine down to her bones.

"Even when I was a teacher, Christine, I thought in terms of notes and bars - in cadences and crescendos. Your English class was structured around the foundation of a melody I once heard in my head. I quoted Aristotle in my teacher's description box, only because I believe that the English language cannot be taught if your heart is not fully immersed into the art." Erik smiled again, walking closer to Christine. "Music doesn't make me lonely, being surrounded by music doesn't make me lonely. I live and breathe music, just as you live and breathe air. What makes me lonely is the thought of living without music... The thought of living without you."

"What?... What did you say?" Christine's eyes trailed up Erik's chest, which was much closer to her than when he started his little speech. His mismatch eyes were relentless upon hers as he blinked slowly, the porcelain of his masks shining against the bright lights above them.

"You, I can't live without you," Erik's hand found Christine's collar bone as he traced the smooth skin with the pad of his thumb. As his hand trailed upward toward her lips, Christine let out a quiet sigh, her eyes slowly closing, inhaling the mixing scents of cinnamon and cologne. "Do you understand now?" Erik's colossal hands encompassed Christine's tiny face as he leaned down to kiss her, joining them in a tender moment.

"Yes." Christine looked up at the masked man, who was now pressed up against her chest. Erik's hand rapidly fell to the small of her back as she tilted onto her heels in reaction to Erik lightly pushed her body backwards with the force of his own. "Why underground though? Can't you make music above ground? I'm sure it would be just as good."

"That's where you're wrong, Christine." Erik grinned from ear to ear, moving a stray chocolate-colored curl behind the dancer's ear. "Erik can't work with all those distractions, those above ground distractions."

"Why are you-"

"Erik can't afford to be bombarded with earthly matters while he's creating symphonies and celestial melodies, beneath the very ground his Christine dances on, yes?" Erik's toned had increasingly changed, growing deeper in timbre. As the back of his fingers brushed Christine's cheek with the touch only an Angel could have, Christine took in a sharp breath as the composer brought her tiny frame closer to him.

"Yes... But, Erik... Why..." Christine could barely finish her sentences, she was so entranced by Erik's voice and the surroundings of Erik's lair that he called his Musical Sanctuary. It was quite different from the one at the university, it wasn't like the one at the college at all. "Why are you talking in third person?" Erik crooned his head to the side with a quick reflex, smiling ever-so-softly to Christine, as innocently as a newborn child.

"I'm not talking in third person?" Placing a chaste kiss on her forehead, Erik moved back towards his piano and took his seat once more, leaving Christine empty and entirely confused. "I'm just saying that it's much harder for me to work upstairs with all those distractions going on around me, than it is down here. The only distraction down here is the overwhelming stench of apple pie. Do you smell it, kitten?" Christine tensed at her nickname.

"I think it smells good. It's better than it smelling like a sewer down here or that dirty lake water." Christine leaned against the black leather couch, her eyes wandering towards the grandiose chandelier above her. "Erik..."

"Hmmm..." The composer kept his eyes focused on the piece in front of him as he listened intently on the small voice echoing beside him.

"The chandelier... It's crystal, right?" Erik absent-mindedly nodded his head as he tried to figure out the next six beats of the measure. "Chandeliers... Do chandeliers... Chandeliers..." Christine sighed in frustration as she gazed upon the shimmering hanging centerpiece. "Chandeliers..."

"What _about_ the chandelier, kitten?" Erik had sat up straight to look upon Christine, averting his gaze up and towards the chandelier in unison with the curious student. "Is it too bright? Do you want me to dim it down for you?"

"No, no. It's fine, really. I just thought that..." Christine lowered her eyes to meet the composer's, the green pupils falling onto the porcelain mask with great sadness. "I just thought you would be terrified to be anywhere near a chandelier."

Christine wasn't sure if she was supposed to be frightened or proud. Erik stood to his feet, his expression completely stoic. The composer exhaled, removing his mask languidly. Christine grew more and more anxious as she looked upon the lacerated cheek and the exposed skull. Erik kept his prosthetic nose on, not wanting to bother with the details. As the composer removed himself from the piano and its bench, Christine followed him intently as he moved directly underneath the crystal chandelier. Taking a deep breath in, Erik closed his eyes and moved his face directly into the light that shone through the chandelier, remaining silent. The towering man looked almost heavenly with the lights cascading down and around him as he soaked in the gleaming crystals. With a final breath, Erik opened his eyes to meet a mismatched gaze with his former student. Christine practically stumbled backwards and lost all the air in her lungs at that moment. Who knew a man such as he could have such a magnificent power over someone without uttering a word?

"We all must face our fears, Ms. Daaé. It is just a matter of whether or not we are brave enough to brace them."

* * *

Christine's eyes shot open, her chest heaving up and down as she tried to gasp for air. The lamp was on and Erik was beside her, his eyes filled with worry and fear as he grabbed onto her shoulders. His hands were literally sticking to her skin as the sweat that accumulated on her body pooled beneath his firm grasp. She had been dreaming when he violently shook her awake, trying to rid her of the nightmare she was experiencing. Christine was kicking Erik in her sleep, screaming, and crying out for help. Erik had never seen her in such a state. Erik had never thought that someone as bubbly as Christine, could be plagued with such horrid dreams. Nonetheless, Erik was a light sleeper and was awakened within the first few kicks that he received in his right calf. He couldn't possibly fall asleep after that, no, not while Christine was in pain. He was never able to fall asleep at night knowing that she was in pain.

"Christine, Christine! You have to wake up, it's just a nightmare, just a nightmare..." Erik's unmasked face tried his hardest to awaken the deeply lethargic Christine, but nothing had seemed to be working. "Christine! Please, wake up for me, kitten! You're having a nightmare! No one is out to get you! No one, I'm here!" Erik lightly shook Christine's tiny frame, trying to not hurt the small dancer.

"HELP! HE'S AFTER ME! _HE'S THERE_!" Christine let out a shrill scream, while she unconsciously pounded on Erik's chest as hard as she could. "HELP!" Again, Erik gently pried her eyes opened, but the glossed over green pupils failed him once more. Tapping her cheeks, Erik thought to himself for a moment. He was running out of the more _tender_ of options.

"Christine, _please_! Wake up, kitten. It's just a nightmare! Just a nightmare!" On his final attempt to lure Christine gently out of her tumultuous slumber, Erik sighed heavily at his last option. With a regretful huff, the composer grabbed Christine tightly by the shoulders and in one swift motion, jerked her forward with such force, her body was flung over his shoulder and into his tight embrace. "CHRISTINE, WAKE UP NOW!" Erik's voice bellowed throughout the thin walls of Christine's apartment, shaking the hanging paintings and scaring André halfway out of his fur. It's a good thing cats always land on their feet.

"E-Erik...?" Christine, a snail's pace, pulled herself away from Erik's chest, the mess of curls falling across her forehead. Taking deep breaths to try and level out her breathing, Christine glanced around the room. "Dreaming... Dream... That was a dream..." Christine mumbled as she reached out to hesitantly touch Erik's cheek. "You're real... This is real. I'm awake."

"Yes, Christine. I am real. I am Erik, _your_ Erik." The composer brought Christine's hand to his swollen lips, placing a feather kiss on her trembling knuckles. Christine remained in a state of fright. "Kitten, you were screaming and kicking. I tried every gentle approach to awaken you, but finally I had to violently shake you and yell at you to awaken you." Christine closed her eyes, trying to rid herself of the haunted images that plagued her mind. "Kitten, what were you dreaming of that caused you so much damage? What happened in your nightmare?"

"I... I was..." Christine fell silent as she sat across from Erik. Suddenly, the nightmare began a faded memory, covered in fog. "All I remember was a cemetery..."

"A cemetery? Whose cemetery? Where was this cemetery?" Christine shrugged her shoulders. "Were you visiting someone's gravestone?"

"I... I think so..." Christine shook her hand, grasping the thick purple blanket beneath her - a gift Erik had given her a couple of weeks ago, because André had clawed the thread out of the last comforter. "There was a man there... He was calling out to me..."

"What did he look like, Christine?" Erik grabbed ahold of Christine's delicate hands, hoping to ease some of her apparent pain.

"Erik... I don't think..." The unmasked man squeezed her hands once again, trying to reassure her that she was completely safe. "Erik, I seriously don't think that-"

"Whatever you dreamt of, you can tell me. You're safe with me, kitten. You're always safe with me." Christine sighed once again, shutting her eyes tightly. Christine knew there was going to be one of two outcomes.

Either Erik was going to be silent, confused, and offended or Erik was going to be loud, angry, and yet again, offended. Christine sat across from the composer as her mind raced for an unsuspecting third option, but nothing was coming up that would have been viable. Erik remained patient as he waited on Christine to speak first. The horrid images just kept replaying in her head as Christine began to speak, hoping that Erik would understand indefinitely. There was no telling what Erik would do, only hoping and praying - even then, praying her hardest sometimes wasn't enough.

"Christine?" The composer's feathery voice snapped Christine out of her mind numbing trance as she looked up at him with saddened eyes.

'If only _this _was a dream,' Christine repeated in her head over and over again as she closed her eyes tightly. "You..."

"What? I don't understand, Christine-" _Nor will you ever. _Christine sighed and finally decided that she had to listen to Erik's voice that was screaming at her in the back of her mind. He was right, like he always is. The dancer took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Facing her fears, Christine met the composer's mismatched eyes with an extremely tight stomach and unnerving feeling in her heart, just praying that it would be over soon - no matter however that may be._  
_

"The man that was chasing me at the cemetery, was _you_."


	15. Chapter 15

**Bring Her Home**

**Hello all,**

**This is probably one of the most intense chapters... Or thorough rather. I'm sorry for the delay. I went to New York and saw Les Miserables! If you may know, I base my characterization of Erik slightly on Ramin Karimloo's portrayal of him in the 25th Anniversary stage production of POTO. Since my junior year of high school (I am now a freshman in college), I've gone through many traumatic events and I've now grown an emotional attachment to Ramin and his music. It was an emotional experience for me to be able to watch him live, especially with such a show like Les Mis. I did do the Fangirl thing and wait at the stage door in the cold New York weather. I met most of the cast, but I was especially excited to meet Earl Carpenter. He was a former Phantom on the West End and that particular night, he was playing Javert. He was a sweetheart and I even got a picture! Anyway, I waited some more and since it is a rarity for Ramin to go to the stage door after shows, I prayed and hoped that he would come out that evening. To my utter disbelief, he came out and made his way down the row and finally he was standing in front of me! Ahhhhhh. I have no words to describe what an amazing experience it was. He makes me want to wake up in the mornings, to push through the hardest nights, even when everything around me is telling me to quit halfway through it. He's my inspiration for everything I do and to meet him was just an out-of-body experience.**

**Anyway, the next week was midterms and as you know, that was busy as well... I tried to update, but it was chaotic enough as is. I hope this update makes up for it.**

**I love you all.**

**Thank you for sticking by me all this time.**

**You have truly made my life,**

**A**

* * *

The nightmares started a week after Christine was released from the hospital and admitted to the rehabilitation center. Meg knew very well that Erik was going to leave her, she just didn't know how to tell Christine without making the situation worse, so Meg just didn't tell her. Night after night, Christine would ask Meg about the professor and if he would be returning to take her away from the ward like some knight in shining armor. Meg never answered her. The blonde ballet dancer would just insist on Christine eating more cornbread. It was always the special in the cafeteria. Christine hates cornbread now. With two weeks under her belt, Christine began to seriously wonder if the former composer was ever going to come back for her. She would dream of him and it would be so vivid, that she could practically hear his voice, see his face. He would call to her and without a second thought, she would go to him. That was until he started calling upon her in a vaguely familiar cemetery and she would wake up screaming for help. No one was there to help her, though. She was alone in a room with too white of walls and too itchy of a blanket. The recurring nightmare of the composer chasing her through the cemetery plagued her for the four weeks she was at the rehabilitation center and even now, she finds her mind wandering to the ghostly images of the masked man standing atop the grand cement angel, never actually knowing if she's dreaming or if it's her eyes playing tricks on her. Nightmare or not, the sad reality that she would run back to the masked man ten times over again - no matter how far he chased her and how brutally he hurt her - was entirely true, and that is what scared her the most.

* * *

"Christine?" The green eyed girl turned slowly to meet the mismatched eyed composer as her mess of curls fell gently down her back. She was exhausted.

"Hmm?" Erik smiled softly at the tired girl as she drifted in and out of sleep. Rising from the piano bench, the composer glided gently towards the lethargic girl, careful not to make any loud noises.

"Why don't I take you to bed? It's too late for you to go all the way home now..." Christine could have sworn that Erik was singing, his voice was smooth and silky - intoxicating, really. "I'll call Meg tomorrow and make sure she knows you're safe with me..."

"Mmmmmkay..." Christine continued to force herself awake enough to answer the former professor as he knelt in front of her. He was as tall, maybe even taller, than her even on his knees. "Am I going to sleep down here? In the lair?"

"It would be much easier, but I can carry you upstairs, if you'd like..." The angelic touch of Erik's fingers grazed Christine's cheek as she nuzzled into his tender grasp. She was content for the first time in a long time. "What do you want to do, kitten?"

"I want to stay up and listen to your music." Erik laughed slightly, only to realize that Christine was serious. "I don't want to go to sleep, Teacher."

"Why not, kitten? You can barely keep your eyes open..." Falling forward, Christine rested body against Erik's chest. His arms never failing to catch her in a protective hold. "Kitten, let me take you to bed... You need sleep..."

"No!" Christine's nimble fingers found the nape of Erik's neck as she fondle the tiny black hairs, whining ever-so-slightly about the extreme dislike towards going to bed. "I want to stay up with you, Erik."

"Kitten, you're halfway asleep and it's already... Three in the morning. You can listen to my music tomorrow, Christine..." Scooping the dancer's body up with ease, Christine acquiesced with no fight. She was exhausted from ballet class. "Tell me, do you want to sleep down here or do you want me to take you upstairs?"

"I want to sleep anywhere you are." Erik hummed in response, making his way down the narrow corridor. The last door on the right was his bedroom. It was smaller than the upstairs one, but still livable. "Erik, I don't want to go to sleep tonight."

"Why not?" The composer stepped towards the bed, laying Christine down on the bed. Her tired eyes met with Erik's in an undeniable wave of sadness. "Christine, what's wrong?" Immediately, Erik sat by Christine as she began to cry - weep. Capturing her trembling body in his, Erik tried thinking back to anything during the day that could have spawned this sudden sadness onto her. "Kitten, tell me what's wrong..."

"If I sleep..."

"If you sleep?" The green eyes were clouded with tears as Christine painfully met with the masked man. He was just as pained. "What will happen if you sleep, Christine?"

"The nightmares... They'll come and get me... I don't want them to come, Erik!" As Christine dug her fingertips into Erik's arms, the composer took a deep breath.

"Christine, as long as I'm here, nothing will get you... Nothing will ever harm you. You're safe with me," Erik paused as he let out the air in his lungs. "Even if I am the one in your nightmares... It's just a dream. I'm never going to hurt you, ever..." Erik brought Christine's chin up with his hand, trying to ensure that she knew about his seriousness. "Christine, I will never hurt you."

"But... The nightmares-"

"Are _just_ dreams, Christine. I am real. Me, Erik. I am real. The man in your nightmares, the man at the cemetery, is not me and he never will be. I promise you, those are just dreams."

Silence fell over the two as Christine pulled away from the composer. Curling up into a ball against the lavish pillows, Christine shook her head slowly. She tried so hard to believe Erik, but nothing plagued her more than the thought of the masked man chasing her through the forest of sculpted angels. The image of the raging fire behind his eyes as he spoke to her with such mystification and gentleness, made her quiver with fear, yet step closer in pure curiosity. He called to her as if he knew her for years and she went to him, like she was his for a lifetime. Nothing scared her more than the way he echoed her name. It was celestial, yet frightening - as she imagined the voice of an angel would sound. As he repeatedly whispered her name from an unknown headstone, it grew louder with a melody so familiar, yet so unattainable. It was only the melody a composer could sing to her. The, "R," of her name rolled off his tongue with such ease that it seemed to trickle down her spine and seep into her skin, leaving its mark on her bones as he finished her name with a breathless, "E." Christine could practically hear it now as Erik stared at her with confusion through the hole of his porcelain mask. The composer had been calling out to her since she went into a daze. With a slow blink, Christine reached out to Erik and gently pulled off the white mask. The composer had no objections. The dancer only wanted to see if the fire that consumed his soul in her dreams was real - if the fire had found its way into reality. She was miserably and unfortunately misinformed when she was told that they were _just _dreams.

* * *

_"Where's the little shit?! The one with the curls?" Mama V screeched at the top of her lungs as she made her way down the line of girls. "The puny one with the giant green eyes, where is she?!"_

_Mama V was a large lady and smelled like the last time she showered was the French Revolution. She had red hair and a lot of freckles. Her temper was the worst, really. She hated the girl with the curls, but at this point... Who didn't? _

_"If someone doesn't tell me where that little shit is right now-" Suddenly, the waddling penguin was rudely interrupted by the slamming of the door behind her. Turning slowly, Mama V met angry eyes with the curly haired girl. "Well, if it ain't Curly. Thanks for joining us, girl." _

_"Sorry Mama V... I..." The penguin rolled her eyes, indicating that she was not interested in her excuse. "I'm sorry." _

_"Well, if Hitler was sorry, would that fix what he did?" The curly haired girl shook her head. Mama V huffed in response as she eyed the line of girls that range from the ages of three to eighteen. She hated children of any age. "Listen up, everyone except Curly here, better get on her merry way and continue on their schedules... Or I'll be very angry. No one wants to see Mama when she's angry, do they?" _

_"No, ma'am!" The multitude of girls echoed back to the headmaster as they all filed out of the bedroom, leaving Curly and the Penguin alone at last. _

_"Mama V..." Curly began with the quietest voice. She couldn't have been more than four years old. "I'm sorry for being late." _

_"Apology not accepted, Curly." _

_Curly knew what was coming. After all, it was her fault that she was late. She had lost track of time in the city and next thing she knew, it was sunrise and Mama V would be waking up the troop of girls. Curly liked getting up really early, while it was still dark outside, and escaping to the city to watch the ballet dancers in the studio. She wondered why there were dancers in the studio so early in the morning, but she also figured that if she was ever going to make it to that age... She would be in there all day too. Curly doesn't remember much of how she got to the all girl's home. She doesn't want to remember, but she hopes that one day she can escape for good. Mama V doesn't like her at all, but she believes that Mama V is just tired all the time. She doesn't mean to hurt Curly, but sometimes... Mama V does and Curly can't say anything. Like that one day where Curly accidentally broke a plate while washing dishes. Oh, Curly remembers that day very well. Mama V was livid. She grabbed Curly by the arm and pulled her upstairs and spanked her hard across the face and thighs. Curly didn't cry though. That wasn't until Mama V grabbed the iron from the fire. She told Curly, "Are you scared?" And of course, Curly said no, but there were tears in her eyes and she felt like she couldn't breathe. Once the hot iron hit her leg, Curly screamed in pain. Oh, the pain was insurmountable. The only thing Curly can remember from that day was Mama V whispering in her ear before letting her go... "Face your fears or they'll get you while you're sleeping."_

_A few weeks after her burn healed, Curly managed to escape again, but this time she took a different path. Curly was never good with directions and she managed to get lost in a cemetery. The headstones were large, much taller than her, but some were small and unique. There were foreign names that she couldn't even try to pronounce and there were easy names that made her mind wander. Surprisingly enough, she wasn't scared to be in a cemetery. She found it calming. With a few more steps, she found another tomb that was quite large. It was gated, but unmarked. She thought it was strange that it had no name, but it was so grandiose. Her curiosity got the best of her and she walked towards the unmarked crypt, only to awaken the spirit within. _

_"Child, what are you doing here?" The voice was a man's. It was the most magical, most kind voice Curly had ever heard before. _

_"I'm... I'm lost." She replied, tilting her head in awestruck wonder. _

_"Lost? In a cemetery? My child, what are you doing out this early in the morning? Shouldn't you be in bed?" Curly smiled gently at the tomb, not really knowing where the voice was coming from. For all she know, it could have been God himself. _

_"I was going into the city and decided to take a different route. I got lost on the way and ended up here... I like it here, though." Curly smiled again as she approached the steps, biting her lip in anticipation. _

_"How old are you, child? You can't be more than seven." Curly held up five fingers and wiggled them with joy. The voice laughed back with Curly. "You are quite young. Where do you live?" _

_"The all girl's home on Boquet Avenue." Curly could feel the tingle of the scar on her thigh acting up as she spoke about her living space. It was hardly a home. Curly paused, trying to think of a way to phrase her question. In defeat, she looked up at the unmarked tomb again. "Sir, are you real?" _

_"Of course, I'm real. You're talking to me, aren't you?" Curly nodded in agreement. "Child, what is your name?" _

_"I don't have one. Everyone just calls me Curly, because of my hair." The little girl shrugged her shoulders and sighed. "What's your name, sir?"_

_"My name? Oh, I don't have a name." The voice paused for a moment, leaving Curly in extreme anticipation. "You can call me whatever you would like, Little One." Curly looked around the graveyard once again for a man, but saw nothing that even resembled anything lifelike. All she saw were headstones and cement angels. Looking forward towards the unmarked tomb, the little girl smiled widely._

_"Is this your tomb, sir?" The voice laughed a deep laugh, only to make Curly stumbled backwards. "Are you d-dead? Are you a ghost?" _

_"If I were a ghost, we would not be speaking like we are now." Curly pulled her lips into a tight line. "This is not my tomb, for I am not dead. I am a man, just as you are a girl." _

_"Can... Can I see you, sir?" The voice laughed again. "I want to see you. I promise I won't hurt you." Curly waited another moment, but the voice didn't respond. With a defeated sigh, Curly turned on her heel and made her way down the steps. It wasn't until she was about halfway down the isle of gravestones that she heard the voice again, but this time it was deeper, more demanding. _

_"Where are you going, child?" Curly froze in her tracks as the booming voice called out to her. "Won't you turn around to meet me?" _

_Curly smiled to herself knowing that she got her way. There was something about this voice that comforted, although it frightened her as well. As the little girl turned around, she was wildly surprised. It was as if her mind was playing tricks on her. The voice personified was a man, a very young man who she didn't imagine to be at all. He was dressed in a black suit and had a white mask on, she wasn't sure why. He was very tall, much taller than she was. His hair was jet black and his stature was regal, mystical almost. The voice wore a black cape that draped his lean body ever-so-perfectly. His shoes shined in the sunlight and the chain of his pocket watch glimmered in Curly's eyes. She was astounded by the whole of the voice. He looked like a magician and as he stood in front of the unmarked tomb, he stared intently at Curly as though __she __was his final act._

* * *

_Three Weeks Later_

"Keep them closed, no peeking." Christine shut her eyes tighter to make a point towards the composer as his firm grip led her blindly into a room that smelled like paint. "Step up, Christine. Don't worry, I've got you."

"I don't like surprises, Erik." The composer smiled only knowing that his former student was unaware of his smiling. "Can I open my eyes now?"

"Not yet, kitten. We're almost there, I promise..."

Suddenly, the air turned frigid and Erik's voice was thrown elsewhere. It seemed as though he was miles away from where she was. Christine didn't like it. As she stood awkwardly - what was seemingly alone - she could hear the movement of feet and tiny whispers in the distance, but Erik's reassuring hand was no long with her. Stumbling backwards, she conveniently found that there was a seat beneath her. The seat was scratchy and had a spring to it. Christine's immediate thought was that she was in an auditorium. The echoing of her breathing and the throwing of Erik's voice were all symptoms of the typical acoustics of an auditorium. Christine could do nothing, but wait.

"Erik?" Christine called out into what seemed like an empty whole of cold air. "Erik, are you there?"

"Christine, do you trust me?" His voice was yet again, in another location, closer to Christine, but not in conversational distance.

"I... Of course, Erik... What's going on, Erik? I'm scared, Erik..." Christine's voice shrunk to that of a child's. Erik had only heard this voice one other time and that was when he had to awaken her from her nightmare. He knew very well that he had to get a move on things. With a deep breath, the magic began.

"Okay, open your eyes, Christine. You never have to be scared with me."

As Christine's eyes adjusted to the bright red stage lights, she gasped in amazement. The scenery was majestic - like it came straight from the Universal Studios backlot. The subtle hints of gold and touches of green that encompassed the sublime perfection - that was the setting of the surprise - it was in that moment when the company of dancers draped in crimson and black, that Christine knew without a doubt, she had entered the master's mind.

"W-What is this?" After moments of awestruck silence, that's all Christine could muster up with saying.

"Do you like it, Christine?" The curly headed girl nodded slowly, not really certain of how she should have reacted. "This is the set of my new opera. I wanted you to be the first to see its first dress rehearsal." Erik stood proudly at center stage with a sea of actors and dancers surrounding him, guffawing at the fact that the composer himself would even stand within three feet of the company. He was the ring leader, the genius behind it all.

"Your new opera? Erik, I... I have no words. It's all so... So... So mesmerizing!" Christine clapped her hands like a small child. She felt strange doing so, but that was her first instinct. As her eyes scanned the landscape of utter brilliance, Erik beckoned Christine with the curve of his finger, drawing her in closer to the magic, making no sound. It was truly in his eyes that the real mystification came. With one quick glance, she was his and Christine knew there was no looking back.

"It's called _Il Muto_." Christine continued to look curiously around at all the dancers, who remained silent. She figured that they didn't know about their relationship. "It's about an Italian Empress who is having an affair with a man, who is disguising himself as the maid." Erik smiled gently at Christine, as he paused awkwardly to pull on the bottom of his jacket. "The maid... Or the man who The Empress is having an affair with, is a silent role... and will actually be played by a woman... It's a comedy, you see..." The composer walked around the stage, scratching the back of his neck. The curly headed girl didn't notice.

"Did you write the music for it?" Christine already knew the answer, but the question passed her lips before she could stop it. Erik's answer was nothing less than she expected.

"The, uh... Main reason why I brought you here was not only for you to see the full dress rehearsal, Christine... But, I brought you here to ask you..." Christine froze in her tracks. Her thoughts raced to the first possible question.

_Marriage. _She was only nineteen. She wasn't ready to be married. She still had three years of college left and she was certain that Erik wasn't ready for marriage either. Christine didn't want to turn around and face the composer. To say no to him in front of all these people would be inhumane of her. It would be as if she was kicking a puppy or even worse, kicking André. Christine didn't want to think about it anymore. As the young girl turned around, she was thoroughly relieved to see that Erik was in fact not down on one knee, preparing to ask for her hand in marriage. The composer was staring at Christine relentlessly with his mismatched eyes with a brand new pair of pointe shoes in his hands. Suddenly, it dawned on Christine that Erik had brought her here to introduce her to the opera, in order for Christine to begin practicing, since they were already at the first full dress rehearsal. With a shaky breath, Christine stepped forward and eyed the pair of pointe shoes as if she had never seen a pair of pointe shoes before, but they both knew that was a horribly, dirty, filthy lie.

"I want you to be the maid, Christine. I want you to dance for me in my opera." Christine almost dropped the pair of pointe shoes as she listened to the composer's request. She didn't think that she was talented enough to earn such a spotlight.

"Erik... I don't think that's a good idea-"

"There you go again with the whole idea that Erik's ideas aren't good ones!" In unison, the whole company - along with a now frightened Christine - flinched at the composer's roaring voice. "What is so bad about Erik's ideas? Does Christine not want to dance in Erik's opera? Is Erik's opera not good enough for Christine?!"

"Erik... I didn't mean it like-"

"Tell me, _Miss Daaé_!" Christine shut her eyes tightly, hoping that this was another nightmare. "Is the stage not your home? Christine has always dreamt of dancing across the stage in front of thousands, has she not?" Christine slowly nodded as she bit her lip in an attempt to prevent tears from flowing down her cheeks. "Did Christine not run away when she was a little girl to watch the older girls dance in studios? Did Christine not imagine that the stage was as good as a home as any?" Erik inched closer to the trembling girl as she clung on to the pointe shoes with all her strength.

"I... I just... I didn't know you wanted me to be the dancer for your opera, Erik." Christine tried to sound as calm as possible as she looked up at the now completely calm composer.

"Oh, Christine..." As silence filled the space between them, the composer fell onto his knees and wrapped his arms around the ballerina's waist. He could feel her quiver at his touch, flinch as he grasped her t-shirt. He was in an undeniable state of shock. "I'm so sorry, Christine... Please... Forgive me..."

"Erik, I... I think I should go, it looks like you have a lot of things to do." At that moment, Christine knew her answer, but she didn't want to tell Erik yet. It was true that she dreamt of being on stage all her life and she considered the ballet studio her home, but she didn't want to be brought to her home - her haven and sanctuary, like this. She was afraid.

"Christine, please... Don't go..." As Christine pulled the composer's body off of her, the sound of the pointe shoes hitting the stage echoed loudly throughout the theater. Erik remained on his knees, with his palms pressed against the cold hardwood floor. He wouldn't dare looking up at her. With a final disappointed sigh, Christine began walking away from the weeping composer and his flabbergasted company, not quite knowing where she was headed. All she knew was that this stage was not her home and that was not her Erik.


End file.
